First Year
by Simon920
Summary: The first year of married life for the boys. This is a sequel to the happy ending of Christmas Presents. Also, it actually has twelve chapters, it just looks like one...you're warned.
1. January

Title: First Year—January

Author: Simon

Pairing: Justin/Brian

Rating: PG-13

Summary: B/J are married, their first year. This is a sequel to 'Christmas Presents', the non-death version.

Warnings: language

Disclaimers: These guys aren't mine, they don't belong to me, worst luck, so don't bother me.

Archive: Moonshadow Tribe and ATP

Feedback: Hell, yes. 

**First Year**

**January: Justin**

We got back to Pittsburgh on January second. It was snowing, of course, but the plane landed alright and Mom was there to pick us up at the airport, no problem.

God, I couldn't believe it—she actually kissed Brian hello after she finished hugging me. A few months ago she was hard pressed to even be civil to him beyond her WASP ice princess act that she puts on when she thinks she has to. It was the whole Christmas visit with my grandparents and the fact that he asked for her help in planning the wedding that made the difference. We all knew that. I didn't mind—I was so happy and that Brian and I were together that I probably wouldn't even have cared if she'd been a complete bitch, which she wasn't.

Molly was great, too. I mean, I always knew she had a crush on Brian and he's great because he doesn't tease her about it, but when she saw us she gave me this really great hug and then seemed shy with Bri. She never had been before so that was a change, but he leaned over and kissed her cheek and told her that she looked great and then he whispered something I couldn't hear that made her laugh and she hugged him for real.

People walking by were smiling at us being so happy and talk about God being in His Heaven and all being right with the world.

Fuck me—that day it sure as Hell was.

Mom dropped us off at the loft, asking us if we would like to join them for dinner, but we asked for a rain check—you know, first night home and all of that.

We put the bags in the elevator and I was unlocking the door when he picked me up and I started laughing, but he wouldn't out me down. He carried me across the threshold and dumped me on the bed and we both laughing by then and kissing with our arms around each other and I think we were about to make love, but the place was freezing and the fucking phone started to ring and Brian just put his hand on my cheek and said later before reaching for the cordless on the nightstand.

I got up and checked—he'd turned the thermostat down to 50 before he left. Shit. I shoved it up to 72 and got the other line to order in some dinner. I knew that there wouldn't be anything worth eating there if the place had been empty for over a week.

So, our first night at home as a married couple was spent with Thai delivery, a hot shower to warm up and wrapped in a comforter while we ate.

Well, OK, there was also so mind blowing sex after the heat came up and we'd had food. You didn't think we read ourselves to sleep did you? C'mon, get serious.

Afterwards we were lying together and I was rubbing my fingers over his ring and I started thinking.

We were married—we were legally bound together, or whatever you want to call it. He was my husband and I was his—husband. I guess this is one of those situations where the language really hasn't kept up with the changes in society or something. I like the word 'partner', but that sounds a little artsy-fartsy to me, a little pretentious or something. You know, "Hello, I'd like to introduce my partner". It sounds awkward to me. 'Boyfriend'? That's even worse. For shit's sake, Brian is in his thirties, he's no one's 'boyfriend'. Well, that which we call a rose by any other name would still smell as sweet.

He's my husband. Deal with it.

You know, I never thought that Brian would ever do this. Get married, I mean, do the whole 'with this ring I do wed' thing and arrange what ever he called a honeymoon. Sure it was like him to keep it all a surprise until the last possible moment, just about, but shit—I just never thought that it would actually happen.

I wanted it to, I guess, but I just never believed that he'd ever go for it. I hinted around—even came right out and said that maybe someday we could—you know...and he always would look at me in that way he has when someone has just suggested something that he thinks came straight from their asshole and either tell me to forget it or that it would never happen or mention that we're not a couple of dykes...you get the idea. I never thought that it was something that he'd change his mind about any time soon.

I thought that I knew him so fucking well, and he still surprises me.

You know what else blew me away? Oh stop smirking, yeah; he did that too a few times. I found out that my Mom helped him plan the whole thing and that he'd gone to talk to her about it while he was still making the reservations. I guess that must have been one fucking conversation that the two of them had because he got her to where she was all for it. Well, all for it enough that she would help him anyway.

I'm not stupid enough to think that she doesn't have second thoughts about her little boy, as Debbie would say, "sucking cock and taking it up the ass." I mean, this can't be what she pictured for me when I was growing up. I know that, but I also know that she suspected for years that I might be gay, so it's not like she didn't have time to get used to the idea. I mean, this has to be better than her thinking that I'm screwing around or something. At least Im in a stable relationship with some one I'm in love with who actually loves me back. Right?

Jesus, we're fucking married. I'm twenty years old and I'm married to the person I love and I'm studying art and—Jesus—I don't know if it can get better than this. It may be this good sometime, but it sure as fuck can't get any better.

**Brian**

Yeah, we pulled it off.

God, if someone had told me a year ago that I'd be newly returned from a surprise wedding and honeymoon and that Justin and I would actually be married, I'd have told them that they were full of shit.

A year ago was about when the Chinrat was making his presence known and my life with Justin was taking a fast ride right into the dumpster. We were arguing and we both knew that the problems we had were bad ones and I doubt if either of us would have thought that it would ever resolve—at least not the way it has.

Oh, I wanted it to, sure, but did I think it would? Fuck, no.

I thought that one day I'd walk in and find that his shit was gone, that he was gone and that would be it. It almost was the way it played out, in fact—we all know that.

Fuck me. You know something? I think I always had a gut feeling that if you let yourself love someone—let them in under that frigging wire—that you'd let yourself open to having your heart stomped into about a million pieces. That's why I never did it, hat's why I never believed in love.

Oh, sure, when I was being completely honest with myself, I'd admit—just to myself, mind you—that it might be nice to trust someone. It could, possibly, be pleasant to know that someone gave a crap whether you were dead or alive and that you—I—cared back.

It might be good.

Of course, I never for a fucking second thought that it would happen to me, that I'd ever cave into that sort of shit.

I'm an ad man. I write fake romance for a living. You want to find true love? Easy. Use Chanel #5. You want to get married? Simple, have whiter teeth. You just want to get laid? Easiest of all, just wear Calvin Klein underwear or shop at Victoria's Secret or dye your hair with L'Oreal. I knew what crap it all was.

I still know what crap it all is.

I also know that when I thought that he was gone for good, I stopped caring about almost everything for a while. I went into a funk until I thought of ways to keep myself in his orbit and I made sure that he knew he could still count on me if the violinist fell short.

Did I think the two of them would last? Fuck, no.

Did I think that he'd want us to pick it up again? That's a harder question. I—hoped that he would, but I wasn't sure. I knew the night that he returned my bracelet that the spark; the attraction was still there. Jesus, we practically fucked each other with our eyes, but the time wasn't right then.

The day I was in the diner and knew that he and Ethan (yes, I know his name) had fought and that he'd spent the night at Daphne's; I thought that it was getting closer. I knew for a fact the day I walked into the art department at work and there he was, all blond and nervous and trying his damndest to no give himself away. I knew that we weren't done.

Talk about whatever you do, don't think about a hippopotamus. If you said you'd pay me not to think about him, I couldn't do it. Every fucking minute he was in my head. So I found a reason to fire him.

Then I told me that I should give him his job back and we both knew that we weren't just talking about paste-ups and fonts.

Yeah, he's got the job, he's got tenure and full benefits and I never thought that I'd do it and Goddamn, there are still times when I wonder what the fuck I'm doing. It scares the shit out of me.

You know any married people who are happy? I mean really happy together? Not many, are there?

It's not a gay thing or a straight thing. It's just so damn hard to find someone you can stand to be with, who you can let all the barriers down with and who you want to be there when you go to sleep and when you wake up. Sure, it's easy to find someone who's OK when the sun is shining and you've got a job and you're healthy and you're young and everything is on autopilot and just fine. No problem. You try finding someone who you want to be around when you're sick or in a pissy mood or upset or having a shitty day or morning breath or who snores. Go on, try it.

You want to know when I knew that I might be able to pull this off?

A couple of months ago I woke up. It was late, maybe three in the morning and something woke me up. I lay there in the dark, trying to figure out what was wrong, why I wasn't still sleeping and then I realized that there was a sound, not all that loud, and that was what had done it.

Justin was pressed against me, his arm thrown across my stomach, and he was snoring softly. It wasn't loud or obnoxious, but it had been enough to wake me.

Instead of being pissed, I liked it. I liked that he was there and that I could hear him and that he was OK. After the bashing I didn't know if I'd ever sleep with him again and when he was with Ethan I was back in the same boat and then I realized that I didn't care if he snored (well, as long as it wasn't too loud, let's not be stupid here), because it was him and it let me know he was there and that he's alright.

Jesus. Was that me saying that?

Fuck me.

Yeah, Debbie was right when she said that. He's in under the wire.

**Jennifer**

I probably shouldn't have gone over to the diner, but I couldn't resist. I knew that Justin wanted to make an entrance when all of the family was there and they usually gathered on Sunday mornings around eleven for brunch and to touch base before they all got started on the day and the new week.

I was dying to see the reactions. As far as I could find out, no one had been told about the wedding or even that Brian had thought of it all. It should a be a total surprise to everyone.

Molly had spent the night at a friend's house, but had made the newlyweds promise that they'd come by later for dinner with us. I saw the look on Brian's face—it was obvious tat the last thing he wanted to do was set the pattern of dinner with the in-laws every week, but he'd agreed to this one night, at least. I suspect that Molly wants to show him off.

So, I walked in the diner about quarter to eleven, kissed Debbie 'hello', waved and smiled a getting to everyone else and took a seat at the counter—the better to watch the others over in the booths. Debbie brought me over some herbal tea, asked me about the holidays but didn't really wait for an answer because one of the front tables wanted their food.

Five minutes later Justin and Brian came through the door. The temperature hadn't topped twenty since we'd been home, so they were both bundled up with scarves and coats and gloves and all. Hanging their things on the rack, they first came over to me to kiss my cheek and smirk and roll their eyes at the next few minutes then casually sat at the booth with Michael and Ben, rearranging people so that they could sit next to each other.

Brian had his hand in his lap, but Justin couldn't help himself, he—ever so nonchalantly—picked up the menu, then laid his hands flat on the edge while he pretended to read.

Ben caught it first.

"Uh—Justin?"

"Ummm?" He was still making a show of deciding between pancakes and an omelet.

"Did you have a nice Christmas?"

"Um-hmm. Great. How about you two?"

"Fine, thanks." Brian was watching this with a disinterested look on his face while actually catching ever nuance, leaning back against the wall. He reached for his glass of water just as Debbie arrived to take orders.

She stood here, looking at the two of them, looking at their hands displayed just so, their faces pleasantly blank.

Shifting her weight to one hip she looked from one to the other. "One of you assholes going to tell me what this is about?"

Justin started laughing, but Brian gave her a glare. "What, Deb?"

She stared at him—hard, something I would never have the nerve to do to Brian Kinney, no matter what our relationship is now and just said, quieter than I'd have expected—"Those are wedding rings, aren't they?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"Legal?"

He nodded. Now, I know that Brian sees Debbie as his real mother and I know she had a lot to do with raising him, so when he looked at her, I knew it was important to him. I guess I expected her to scream or swear or throw her arms around the two of them or something like that, but she didn't. She got this wonderful smile on her face, looked from Brian to Justin and back again, actually wiped a tear and said quietly enough that I had to strain to hear, "I'm proud of you, both of you." Then she pulled them both up and out of the booth, hugged Justin for a long moment before moving on to her second son, holding him close while he stroked her back. She was crying.

The conversation in the diner stopped at this remarkable sight. Ted and Em both turned around to see what was going on, the girls stood up in case Deb was ill and the tableau stayed like that for a minute or so before Deb got a hold of herself. She looked up at Brian, saying, "Tell them, kiddo."

He still had that half smile on his face, but he nodded at her.

"Justin and I got back from Vermont yesterday. We were married last week."

That was all he said, but you could have sworn that he'd dropped a nuclear bomb. No one moved while this sank in. I looked from one person to another, the shocked, or surprised or stunned expressions—no one had ever thought to hear this—never.

Suddenly Em was the one to break the stalemate. "Sweetie!" His arms thrown around Justin, he was hugging and kissing Justin's cheek and laughing. Then the damn broke. The shouts and the congratulations and the laughing and the crying—these were drama queens, after all.

The two of them were forced to hold court, though in truth, Justin did most of the talking. Brian sat there, making an occasional comment but mostly he just watched Justin handle all the questions and the back slapping, a look on his face that almost made me start crying myself.

I can't pretend that Brian is my idea of a perfect match for my son, but with all his faults, I know that he loves Justin and that Justin would move mountains for him.

Michael was the only one who seemed to hold back, a sour, annoyed look on his face. Now, I know that he's jealous of Justin, but I thought that he could have tried a little harder for Brian's sake, but he just got up, put on his jacket and left. I think that Ben and I were the only ones to notice.

He'll just have to accept this.

**Brian**

The next day I was at my desk by seven. I actually didn't mind getting there early. It was quiet, I could get a lot done and no one bothered me. After the Christmas break, I knew that there would be a shitload of work backlogged and I wanted to get a jump on it.

It was business as usual. I've always been good at compartmentalizing my life, this was no exception, so it wasn't really a surprise that when Cynthia came in about nine and asked me what the fuck I was wearing, I snarked back, "A suit."

"I meant on your hand."

OK, I was going to say something snotty, but I like Cynthia, so I told her. She kissed my cheek, told me that she was happy for me and said that she'd call Human Resources to have Justin added to my benefits if I wanted. I did.

Twenty minutes later the grapevine had done it's job and Gardner was standing in my doorway. "I understand that congratulations are in order." He held out his hand. "And whom is it you've tied yourself to, if I may ask?"

"Justin. You've met him, Gardner, at your cookout last summer."

"Blond? Young?"

I nodded.

"Well, we'll all have to have dinner this week, shall we?"

The thought had to be as much of a nightmare to him as it was to me. "...Gardner, you don't really want to have dinner with me and my twenty year old husband, do you?...I mean, really?"

He hesitated, unusual for him. He was pretty smooth. "Now that you mention it, I'm not sure that we'd have all that much in common."

I laughed. "We'll call it square." He laughed, too, we understood each other.

"I really do wish you the best, you know."

"I know." And I knew that he meant it.

**Justin**

I heard the door slide open and wrapped my arms around Brian. He smelled like the cold and the fresh air and felt solid and strong and God, I love him. When we were finished kissing for a few minutes he took off his coat and followed me to the kitchen to watch me put dinner in the oven. He told me about the reactions he'd gotten at work and that I'd be put on his health insurance and that Cynthia wanted to have us over for dinner soon. He leaned over the counter to kiss me again, then went up to the bedroom to change into jeans and a sweater. I went after him.

"I called my father today. I asked if we could have lunch or something this weekend."

"All of us or just you and him?"

"I thought that I'd ask you what you think is best."

Brian sat on the edge of the bed, pulling me to sit beside him and holding my hand. He rolled his lips in, a sure sign that he wasn't happy about something or was thinking about something that wasn't going the way he wanted. "I think he's going to need some time to get used to the idea. Does he even know that we're back together?"

"I don't think so. He never asked me and I never told him."

"I think it might be easier on him if you see him either alone or with both your mother and me along. At least that way he won't feel outnumbered." He didn't smile when he said that. I nodded at him. He had a point.

"I don't know—that might make her feel a little weird, being the DMZ or something. That could be unfair to her."

Brian stroked my fingers while he collected his thoughts. "You're right. I'll tell you what. You set up a lunch or whatever and you decide of you want me there or if you'd rather do this alone. I'll go along with whatever you want."

"...You will?"

"He has to know at some point. I guess there's no reason to put it off." He gave me that half smile again. "He hated me when we were just having an affair, he might as well have the chance to hate me when we're legal."

**Craig**

I swear that I couldn't believe it when the call came in this morning. Brian Fucking Kinney called me at the office to tell me that he'd like to see me, if he could, as soon as possible. He wouldn't even tell me what the hell he wanted to talk about, just that it concerned Justin. Yeah, no kidding—what else did we have in common besides my son?

So I started to tell him what he could do with his meeting, but then he said that it was important, that Justin was in some situation—wouldn't tell me what—and he'd like to try to straighten it out.

I took a look at my schedule. There was a hole at two. He said that he'd be there.

So at about ten to two I'm sitting at my desk and Hannah buzzes me to say that my next appointment had arrived. I stayed sitting—the busy exec behind the desk and all that, made sure there was some work out so it didn't look like I'd just been staring out the window and told her to send him in.

He came in, sat on one of the client chairs and crossed his legs, calm, at ease and in control. I hate guys like him. I always have. Even if he hadn't abused my son, I'd hate him. He's one of those men who have everything handed to them because of their looks and an attitude they all seem to be born with. You know, the "I'm hot shit and you're not" attitude. Kinney has it in spades.

I waited for him to start.

"Justin is afraid that you won't accept him. If you don't make some concessions, you'll lose him."

"Excuse me?"

He paused for just a moment. "Did you know that we've been back together for a year now?"

I didn't. I thought that Justin was with that musician. Kinney saw what I was thinking. "We separated—he left me—for someone else for a few months, but it didn't work out. We got back together. We've been living together for about ten months now."

"So you can do whatever you want to him in the privacy of your home. How convenient for you." He ignored me.

"Over the Christmas break we went up to Vermont, Justin thought that we were just going skiing. I asked him to marry me, he accepted. We got back a few days ago."

Jesus. This had to be bullshit. This wasn't legal; it wouldn't stand up in court. I could maybe have it annulled or something. There wouldn't even be a record of it. I saw the glint on his finger. He was wearing a Goddamned wedding ring. God.

"And you're telling me that it's a done deal and that you're now my—what?—son in law?"

"As a matter of fact, yes."

I think I shook me head, I remember just saying "No."

"Look Craig, I don't give a shit what you think of me, but Justin and I are married. It's legal, if you want to call a lawyer. The only reason I'm here is to tell you this before you meet Justin for lunch this weekend so you don't act like an asshole."

"He's too young to do something like this, you've somehow forced him to do something..."

"Yeah, right. Whatever. Call Jennifer if you want, she'll fill you in. You have your lunch and you have a nice time, but if you try to make him decide between us, you'll lose. I don't want him hurt, so don't ask him to choose." Kinney stood up, his voice polite and dripping with sarcasm, "Thanks for your time, Mr. Taylor."

When he left I dialed Jen. She confirmed it. They had gotten married the week before, after spending Christmas with her and her parents in New York. Yes, she still has reservations about Kinney, but Justin was happy, so she was willing to go along with it and would be there if it didn't work out.

Christ.

What Goddamned choice did I have?

**Sunday, Four PM**

"Brian?"

"Bedroom."

Justin launched himself onto the bed, landing on top of Brian, trying to read. "Stupid twat. What the fuck are you doing?"

"It went sooo well! I couldn't believe it. I told him that we're back together and he was alright with that, even said something about how it didn't surprise him, so after I worked up my nerve I told him that we're married—OK, I just showed him my ring and he just looked at it."

"Did he say anything?"

"He said that he hoped that you made me happy."

"And—was that all?"

"...I told him that you do."

Brian pulled Justin until he was lying on top of the larger man, his arms wrapped around his back, Justin's hand on either side of his face. Brian tried to pull him down for a kiss, but he resisted.

"Brian? You told him, didn't you?" No answer, Brian just looked at him with his amazing eyes, hoping that his lover wouldn't be angry and would understand why he had gone behind his back. The smile started, not the full sunshine, but the one that was warmer. "Thank you."

TBC

6/26/03

12


	2. February

**Februay**

**Their day-to-day life settled into a pattern of school, work, dinner, Woody's or Babylon if Justin didn't have a lot of schoolwork to do or if Brian wasn't trying to finish work he'd brought home.**

**Some days. If he had time, Justin would make their dinner since Brian didn't like to cook, some days they'd either go out or order in.**

**They would shower together almost every morning and make love almost every night.**

**After the first couple of weeks they were no longer the latest topic at the water coolers or the bar and were mostly left alone. Justin's friends at school seemed to find thet fact that he was married slightly embarrassing—not because he was married to a man, but because he was married to someone in his thirties. It was somehow inhibiting for them to be around Brian—first of all because his looks tended to intimidate people and secondly because he wouldn't suffer fools and he made them feel like a bunch of college kids.**

**The fact that's exactly what they were seemed to make no difference. They felt like kids around him and weren't comfortable. He never said anything and was usually reasonably polite, but the result was the same—they would be sitting around the loft, Brian would come home from work wearing one of his expensive suits and carrying a briefcase, looking like a better looking version of their father's and the conversation would be come stilted and forced. Now Justin's school friends preferred to meet elsewhere. The only contemporary who was relatively at ease around the two of them was Daphne, but she was busy with her pre-med studies and couldn't get out as often as she would have liked.**

**Justin noticed that they treated him differently, too. Before the wedding he had just been one of a group of second year graphic design students, now he was 'married' and it set him apart.**

**Justin's father was trying to reestablish their relationship, though he still wasn't ready to sit down to dinner with Brian. Craig had called a couple of times and they'd managed to have civil conversations, mostly about small talk, but it was a start. If the talk veered into anything personal or if Brian's name entered the conversation, Craig's voice would become strained and he would change the subject. Justin didn't push, not yet, but he always made a point to mention his husband to make the point that he was in the picture.**

**Jennifer was doing better with the whole relationship, though and the two men would drop in with a pizza or Chinese now and then. Molly was always happy to see them come through the door, always claiming the seat next to Brian, hanging on whatever he said and making sure that his glass was full or his jacket hung up.**

**Jennifer didn't seem to mind, in fact she seemed to actually like having Brian around now and then just to have another adult to talk to. Of course she knew that Justin was older than his years and more mature than almost any twenty year old she'd met, but Brian was an adult in almost every sense of the word, and she liked the give and take of conversation with him.**

**All in all, they were adjusting to being married with little stress and not too many problems—or at least none that really impacted them. Justin was happy enough with Brian that he could ignore the odd looks and occasional comments he got from his classmates, and Brian never had let anything people said about him make any difference.**

**All in all, he found that their everyday lives didn't really change all that much. They still ate their meals and went to work or class. They still slept and saw friends and had quiet evenings in. They still did laundry and got gas for the car. The day-to-day things stayed the same.**

**It was when he'd be in a lecture and glance down, seeing his ring that he'd feel the difference or when he'd reach across the bed and know that Brian was there, that he wasn't out tricking or when he'd be in a store and see something that he simply had to get because he knew that Brian would love it that the difference was felt.**

**Then there was the day that Justin came in around seven with a couple of bags of groceries to find Brian drunk on the couch, depressed and angry. In response to anything Justin said all he would offer was sarcasm or remarks startling in their nastiness, even for him.**

**Finally, after kindness and concern failed to make a dent, Justin had tried reason and anger himself at Brian's foul mood, but nothing would make the older man tell him what had so upset him other than it was nothing he'd done.**

**When Justin tried once more, only to be told to "leave me the flying fuck alone and get the hell away from me", he gave up, going to take a shower. By the time he came out and had put the food away, Brian was passed out on the couch, bottle of JB beside him on the coffee table. It was more than half empty.**

**Removing Brian's shoes, throwing a blanket over him, putting the liquor away and turning out some of the lights that were burning, Justin tried to figure out what had happened.**

**Brian had been cutting back on his drinking lately, this was the first time this had happened in at least six months and Justin knew that there weren't too many things that could upset Brian this much. His father's death had done it, and threats to his job would do it. Almost any contact with his mother and, to a lesser degree, with his sister was always good for either an outburst or silence. An argument with Michael would do it. Maybe he'd had another talk with Craig, maybe Jennifer had said something or Debbie. Debbie was another one who could push Brian's buttons if she got angry enough with him.**

**Shit, something was going on.**

**Restless, he got up; walking into the kitchen to make himself a sandwich since his dinner plans had obviously changed.**

**Fifteen minutes later he was done eating. Getting himself a can of coke, he went over to his computer to try to get something done on that frigging 'conflict' project for design concepts. Dumbass assignment.**

**Shit.**

**He saw the flashing. The answering machine was blinking. He pushed the button. The first message was a salesman. The second was a reminder about a dentist appointment the next day. The third was from Michael wanting to know why Brian hadn't shown up at the shop like he said he would. The fourth call was pay dirt.**

"**Brian? This is your mother. I heard something today down at the market and I'd like you to call me about it. In fact, on second thought, I think I'd rather talk to you about it in person. I'll be home all day. Come over when you get this message."**

**It wasn't a request, it was a direct order. If it had come from anyone else, Brian would have blown it off, this one, he had likely actually given in to.**

**Shit.**

**The message had come in at one thirty seven, PM. If Brian had taken off early this afternoon, and he had mentioned that he might, he would have heard this and might have gone to see what bug had crawled up his mother's butt this time.**

**Let's see—could it possibly be about his being gay? Hmmm, you think? Could she somehow have gotten wind that there was an addition to the Kinney clan? Hmmm? Maybe?**

**God, she was a complete bitch.**

**The answering machine was still blinking. The last call was Michael again.**

"**Brian? Are you there? Pick up if you are...Brian?...Fine, shit...Look, asshole, you said that you'd be here at three and it's now almost four thirty. I've tried your cel and there's no answer and no one knows where you are...If you're there fucking your perma-twink, call me when you're done—if you're ever done and get your ass over here....Asshole."**

**With any luck Brian hadn't heard that one. Justin hit the delete key, the machine resetting at zero.**

**Brian was still out on the couch. He'd probably be there til morning.**

**Well, fuck it.**

**Booting up the computer, he hit 'driving directions' and print. It wouldn't take him more than half an hour to get there.**

**Leaving a note on the kitchen counter in the unlikely event that Brian got up, he took his jacket and the car keys and headed out.**

**It was a smallish brick house on a nondescript street in a middle class neighborhood.**

**It was Brian's childhood home.**

**There was a light on in what was probably the kitchen, the outside lights were dark. Walking up to the front door, he rang the bell, saw more lights snap on, heard footsteps. The front door light came on. The door opened a few inches.**

"**Yes?"**

"**Mrs. Kinney?"**

"**Yes, may I help you?"**

"**My name is Justin Taylor, I'm a friend of Brian's. May I come in? I'd like to speak with you if I could."**

**She hesitated.**

"**Please?"**

**Relenting, she opened the door, turning away before he'd even gotten inside.**

**She walked into the living room. It was neat, nothing out of place. Evidently, at least that part of his mother had rubbed off on Brian, whether he liked it or not. She sat on a stiff, upright Victorian looking chair, her back not touching the upholstery. Indicating the couch, she invited him to join her. Removing his jacket, he did. There were almost no personal touches in the living, no family photos, no hand embroidered pillows, no books or magazines to indicate the interests of the people who live there.**

**She resembled Brian; or rather he resembled her in some ways. He had her eyes and the same sort of features. They had the same reserve, aloofness, the same ability to distance themselves from others. He suspected that she drank a lot, maybe even more than he'd picked up from Brian and overheard conversations.**

**There was nothing soft about her. Her hair resembled a gunmetal helmet, her posture rigid, her expression a close copy of Brian's glare.**

"**You wished to speak with me? I assume this concerns my son?"**

"**Did you see him today?"**

**She gave him an appraising look. "I can't think why that would be any of your business, young man."**

**He met here stare for stare. "You know who I am, don't you?"**

"**Of course I do. You're the boy my son told me he married last month." She closed her eyes for a moment. "Married. Dear God."**

"**That's why you asked him to come here to meet you, isn't it?"**

"**A friend called me today and said that she'd heard somehow. She didn't believe it, of course, but with Brian, I thought it better if I asked him."**

**Justin stopped. What the fuck could he say to this woman that would matter? God, she was a frozen wall.**

**She softened slightly as he wilted. "Justin, is it?" He nodded. "I know that Brian thinks that I don't love him. He's believed that for years, since he was a child, but he's wrong. I asked to see him today because I do love him. I worry for him, I have for years."**

"**Have you ever told him that?"**

"**You're 'married' to him, you obviously know him fairly well. You know how he is. He can't abide sentiment; he never wanted the affection most children crave. Claire always did, but they were as different as night and day. Even when he was a child, he would pull away from me, fuss to be put down if he was held, disappear up to his room for hours on end."**

"**So you stopped trying with him." It wasn't an accusation, just a quiet statement of fact.**

"**Brian has never been easy, he's always been so independent, so sure of himself, so quick to lash out." She turned her attention back to Justin looking at him for the first time. Her eyes went to the ring on his hand. "I can understand why you two would have an affair, but I cannot fathom why you would actually marry. You know, Brian made a point of telling me that it's a legal marriage...well, be that as it may, it will never be honored in the eyes of the Lord."**

**He spread his hands in a gesture almost of pleading. "If you love him, can't you accept him, be happy for him?" Flashes of his own father were in his head, the same phrases, the same attitude.**

"**It's because I love him that I know he's damned, as am I." She sipped from the wine glass on the table beside her. "If I'd known sooner, when he was younger, I could have done something."**

"**Stopped him from being queer?" She glanced at him, nodding. "You wouldn't have made any difference."**

"**So people have told me, but I don't believe that. A mother has influence over a child."**

"**Mrs. Kinney, Brian is smart and honest and talented and handsome and amazing. We love each other and we're happy together. Can't you just take him as he is?"**

"**Young man..."**

"**He's amazing and he's wonderful."**

**The phone rang, startling both of them and destroying whatever rapport had tentatively been established. She went to the kitchen to answer it. "Hello?...I want you to tell me when you knew...No, I want to know...Fifteen? You've known this for fifteen years and it never occurred to you that I would want to know?...You're as bad as he is...Yes, you are...Fine....Don't come by tomorrow...I don't need you, either, darling."**

**Whatever softening of her attitude Justin had managed had just turned back into steel. "That was Brian's sister, she just informed me that she's known about her brother for fifteen years." She drained her wine in one swallow, refilled it, drained it a second time. "If you'll excuse me, I'd like to lie down."**

"**Mrs. Kinney, please..."**

"**You're really not what I had in mind for a daughter-in-law." She went up the stairs, leaving him alone. Taking his jacket, he let himself out.**

**When he got back to the loft half an hour later, sliding the door open, the lights were on low and Michael was sitting on the couch watching X-Men on the DVD. It was turned down low. Looking upstairs, he saw Brian asleep or passed out on the bed.**

"**Is he alright?"**

**Michael turned to look at him as he sat on the chair on the other side of the coffee table.**

"**When I got here he was looking for you, but I guess he was too drunk to find your note. I just told him you had an errand to do and got him back up to bed."**

"**But is he OK?"**

"**He'll have a bitch of a hangover in the morning, but he'll be fine." He clicked off the movie. "Look, you have to understand that Brian's parents really did a number on him. It got so bad for a while that when he was around fourteen my Mom even had his father arrested to stop the beatings. He's still fucked up from that shit."**

"**He saw his Mom today. She found out about us from some gossip and I guess she reamed him pretty badly. He was pretty out of it when I got home."**

"**And how is old Joanie?"**

**Justin managed a smile. "Swell."**

"**I'll bet." Michael got up, going over to the fridge, bringing a couple of beers back with him, handing one of the bottles over. "I guess you're getting a little more than you bargained for."**

"**I don't care about this shit, not really. Families are always screwed up. It's just part of the package."**

"**If you can take on his mother, you could take on the Ayatollah."**

**Justin drained half of his bottle. "Are you still pissed about us not telling you—I mean about Brian not telling you before hand?"**

"**Yeah, I'll get over it."**

"**Are you still pissed that he's with me?" Ah, the sixty-four dollar question.**

**Michael finished his own beer, placing the empty on the table. "...I want Brian to be happy. He hasn't been for most of his life and he deserves to be."**

"**He's happy with me. We're happy with each other."**

"**When you walked out with Ethan you broke his heart. I know you're sorry about that and you two think you've worked it all out..."**

"**And you don't think so?"**

**He got up, reached for his coat. "I think that right now you're fine, but I think in a couple of months or a couple of years you'll go down the same road again, Boy Wonder and when you do, I'll still be here to take care of him."**

"**You're full of shit."**

"**Whatever. Don't give him aspirin in the morning, it upsets his stomach. Give him Advil."**

**Turning off the lights, setting the alarm, Justin was about to go up to join Brian in bed when, on impulse he booted up his computer. The desk was positioned so that he could see the bed from where he was sitting. Picking up the stylus, he began drawing. When he was finished, when he finally put the pen down it was after three.**

**Yes, this was it. It was good.**

**He hit 'print'**

**It was another portrait of Brian. There was nothing unusual about that; he'd drawn dozens in the last couple of years.**

**This was similar to the first nude of the man he'd done, the one that had been displayed at the GLC Center, the first piece he'd ever sold.**

**Similar, but different.**

**This one was more sophisticated, technically better. He'd improved, he was more refined in his style, his technique more advanced, but those alone didn't account for the impact of the image. There was another difference, other than the obvious one of media and the addition of color.**

**This drawing was done through the eyes of a mature and experienced lover, not a youngster unsure of himself going through his first crush.**

**This drawing was sure, confident, powerful and imparted the fact that the man in the drawing was loved.**

**Justin turned off the machines and went up to bed. He put the picture on the nightstand.**

**Brian would see it in the morning.**

**He'd know.**


	3. March

**March**

**_The Ides of March._**

**Shit.**

**OK, things had been fairly smooth since the encounter Brian had with his bitch of a mother last month, but they were still getting frigging prayer cards in the mail at least three times a week and Father Tom had told them when they'd seen him at Babylon that Joan was lighting candles every fucking day for the salvation of both their souls.**

**Brian had just rolled his eyes, but it was pretty clear that it wasn't something he was enjoying. He seemed to take some perverse pleasure of explaining who the various saints were, though, almost speechless with laughter when the one featuring Saint Ann arrived. Evidently she was the patron saint of single women, or some such, Brian telling Justin that the most common prayer to her was something like "Ann, Ann, send me a man!" and they spent a good half hour wondering if Joan had sent it by mistake or on purpose.**

**Brian was about to retaliate by sending her one with a picture of Saint Jude, the patron saint of lost causes, but was talked out of it at the last second.**

**They were both busy, more so than even usual. Justin had two major projects coming due on top of the other waiter/busboy breaking a leg, which meant extra shifts at the diner. Brian had told him that he should quit or get something else, but he liked it there. He liked the people and he insisted that he have at least some money of his own so he wouldn't feel like he was completely dependant on Brian for every pack of cigarettes or bottle of beer or new ink cartridge.**

**Brian actually agreed and was proud of the fact that Justin was determined to be independent. Neither of them was interested in him turning into the little woman or some shit like that. Everyone knew Brian was as Alpha a male as they came, but not as many realized that Justin was, too. Sure, it was hidden under that blond hair and behind those blue eyes and that smile, but he was tough as nails and there wasn't much he'd back down from. He willingly and knowingly ceded the position to Brian—most of the time when they were together, anyway, but when something really mattered to Justin, he'd no more back down than Brian would. They'd butted heads about stuff more than once, but usually, one way or another, managed to resolve things.**

**Brian was forced to work late almost every night; often going in early and he'd usually have to bring things home on the weekend, too. When Justin asked what the big push was about he was told that Brian was still on damage control from Vance's takeover. Gardner's firing all of Ryder's people may have earned him the loyalty of the new staff, but they were inexperienced and the few who knew what they were doing had no relationship with the old clients. Brian had to do almost all of it.**

**Even though he was used to years of sixty hour weeks, the added workload and stress was enough that even he was becoming exhausted and the strain was starting to take a toll.**

**He would generally come home after nine, grab something out of the fridge, nuke it, work for a few more hours, fall into bed, be up at six and out the door by quarter of seven. On weekends he would want to let off steam by clubbing, and would end up with less sleep than he was getting during the week.**

**If some of Justin's school friends were there when he arrived, he would maintain a generally polite façade, but it was clear that he wanted them gone and Justin was starting to think that it might actually be a good thing that they were uncomfortable around him and usually met elsewhere. It wasn't worth the shit when Brian would bitch about them eating every fucking thing in the house and leaving a Goddamned mess.**

**Justin was starting to worry about him, but every time he suggested some way to ease the strain—have Cynthia take on more, hire another assistant, bring in some more experienced people, he was shot down.**

**Brian believed that the buck really did stop with him. Alright, Vance had a say, too, but Brian was the one the client's knew, he was the one who took the calls and made the pitches. He was the one the Ad Execs reported to and the one who took the heat if a client jumped to another agency or they failed to land an account.**

**Justin tried to be supportive, but he was under the gun with midterms and it was difficult on both of them.**

**Occasionally Jennifer would drop off a casserole or something, but even when she did, they rarely were together to eat the thing. Jennifer saw the circles under Brian's eyes and the strained look on Justin's face, but said nothing.**

**The night Brian wasn't home by eleven thirty, Justin became frightened, calling his office, calling his private line and finally calling his cel. He answered the cel on the third try, sounding slightly vague and reluctantly admitting that he was at University hospital ER but that he was fine and was being released. He'd cab home and should be there in half an hour, adamantly refusing to allow Justin to come get him, insisting it was quicker and easier this way and cutting him off when he started to protest.**

**When he walked in thirty-five minutes later, Justin was frantic. He had a stitched up cut over his right eye in almost the same place he'd been hurt when Craig had smashed the jeep. His nose wasn't quite broken, though it had been a close thing and his right wrist was badly sprained.**

**There was blood on the collar of his shirt and on the shoulder of his suit jacket.**

"**Jesus, Brian—what happened?" Justin was at the door the moment he'd heard the elevator motor in the hall. He was afraid to hug Brian or kiss him, not knowing the extent of his injuries.**

"**It's nothing. I'm fine, I'll just take a shower and get cleaned up, you'll see. It's not that bad."**

"**Why the shit didn't you call me? I was fucking worried and then I get through to you and you're in the fucking ER? Jesus!"**

**Brian gave him a look that stopped any further questions, at least for now. Fine, he'd find out soon enough and right now he was home and in one piece.**

**Shit.**

**Justin helped him off with his coat and the suit jacket, removed the already loosened tie and unbuttoned the dress shirt, leading him up to the bathroom. He started the shower and stripped off his own clothes as well as what was left of Brian's, joining him for once not for sex, but just to help.**

**The water ran down Brian's face and chest as he leaned heavily against the glass, too exhausted to stand upright any longer. Justin gently soaped him and rinsed the lather off, took a washcloth and carefully cleaned the blood off his face, avoiding the stitches and the worst of the bruising. His ribs were black and blue, too, though the x-rays had shown no real damage.**

**Finally, Brian was as clean as he was going to get, Justin turned off the water, took the bath sheet from the stand and gently dried him off. "Are you hungry?"**

"**No."**

**Taking his hand, Justin led him to the bed, settling him and pulling the covers up. He was asleep almost immediately.**

**The next day Justin didn't wake Brian and skipped his own classes, calling Cynthia to let her know that her boss wouldn't be in that day and possibly not the next day, either. When Brian finally appeared from the bedroom, having been allowed to sleep as long as needed, it was past three in the afternoon.**

**Putting the plate of eggs and toast in front of Brian, Justin sat across the table and quietly said, "Are you going to tell me what happened?"**

"...**I fell asleep at the wheel and went into a phone pole. I'm pretty sure the corvette is totaled."**

"**Was anyone else hurt?"**

"**No."**

**Justin got up, going over to Brian, carefully putting his arms around him and kissing him gently. "But you're alright."**

**Brian's arms came up around his waist, holding onto the younger man, his face hidden against Justin's stomach as they held one another. Brian's breath was labored.**

"**Brian, you have to slow down. Please."**

"**I know. I will. As soon as I get back from Atlanta I'll take a few days off."**

**Justin pulled back enough to see Brian's face. "Atlanta?"**

"**I leave Tuesday, get back Friday. There are seven pitches scheduled to major accounts. Vance is going, too."**

"**Do you want me to come with you?"**

"**Why? You want to go shopping with the other wives?"**

"**Fuck you. I could help. I interned for you, I know how to do some of that stuff, I could take some of the load off you."**

"**Cynthia is coming. She'll do that shit. Besides, you have school."**

**Justin nodded. He knew a 'no' when he heard one.**

"**I'll just keep the home fires burning." He took Brian's empty plate, handing him some coffee. "Will you really take some time off when you get back? Maybe we could go somewhere and you could just sleep or something."**

"**I can sleep here."**

"**The phone rings here and Woody's and Babylon are here. The boys call you and both of our mothers hassle you."**

"**Justin...just fucking drop it. I have to work now. The agency is trying to reestablish itself after the buyout and it's expanding and I'm the one who..."**

"**You're the one who has to do everything or it all turns to shit." Justin was getting angry. Brian seemed convinced that if he weren't the one in charge, things would fall apart. The fact was that Vance hired the best people he could find—including Brian.**

**Too tired and sore to engage, Brian gave Justin a look to melt steel, stood up, shoved his feet in a pair of shoes, grabbed his jacket and walked out. He never told Justin where he went and when he got back around midnight, he had been drinking, but not enough to pass out, just enough to be amorous. Justin did what was asked of him and nothing more, just as Brian was about to climax he abruptly withdrew, saying he wasn't into 'fucking necrophilia'. He went into the bathroom, ran the shower behind the closed door and returned to bed a few minutes later, having jerked himself off. The next morning he left for Atlanta while Justin was in class and without them having really said goodbye. They were both still angry—Brian because Justin had acted like a fucking housewife and a controlling bitch, not understanding the demands and responsibilities he had on him and Justin because Brian was killing himself and refusing to accept any help when he obviously was close to burn out.**

**On Wednesday, Justin went to Jennifer's for dinner, apologizing that Brian was on a business trip.**

**After the Lo Mein was eaten, and Molly had gone up to do homework, Jen said, "Alright, tell me what's happened."**

**Justin told her about Brian's long hours, the skipped meals, the lack of sleep and, finally, about the wrecked car. The insurance would cover it, but he could have been killed and he was resisting slowing down, seemingly convinced that if he did, he would fall behind or lose his job or something.**

**God, she'd done this with Craig, ten years ago but at least they hadn't been newlyweds. "He probably does feel that if he slows down he'll fall behind, sweetie. Advertising is as competitive and cutthroat as it gets. He's doing well, and he's young to have the position he does, but you know as well as I do that there are a hundred people who would kill for his job and he knows that, too."**

"**I know, but..."**

"**What else, Justin? Are you two having other problems?" She didn't know if he'd answer.**

"**No, not really. It's just that I guess I thought that—I don't know, that after we were married it would be different."**

**Oh, God. Not this already. "You thought that having a ring and a license would make all the problems go away?"**

**He shrugged, a little sheepishly. "I know, that's stupid."**

"**Well, a little naïve, maybe. The problems don't go away, Justin. They might get better if you both work on them."**

"**But he won't cut back on his work and that's killing him."**

"**You know that his work is a very large part of his life and how he sees himself. It validates him."**

"**I thought that I validated him."**

**She gave him a sad smile. "You do, sweetie, but you're not the only thing in his life, any more than he's the only thing in yours."**

"**But we're married."**

**Jennifer couldn't think of an answer to that that Justin would listen to, not right at that moment. "Sweetie, Justin—Brian is doing this to lay the groundwork for both of your lives. In a few months or a year or two he should be in a position to step back a little. By then you'll be finished with school and probably working—things will look different."**

"**Did it look different for you and Dad when he made Vice President?"**

**That was when Craig had an affair and she had the miscarriage, neither of the kids knew. "Yes, sweetie, it did."**

**He kissed her cheek, smiled at her as he headed home. It had gotten better for them for a few years, but they were still divorced.**

**On Friday Justin came home from class to find a small vase of orchids, three sprays of small yellow oncidiums, sitting on the desk by his computer. He could hear the shower running. Brian's bag was on the bed. Going upstairs, stripping off, he opened the glass door, their arms going around one another.**

**Brian was still bruised from the car wreck, but he would heal.**

**They kissed without saying anything, gently at first, but within seconds, Brian's tongue was in his mouth and Justin's hard on matched his husband's. Still saying nothing, Brian took a handful of liquid soap into his hand and used it to caress Justin's body—up his spine to his neck, drawing a path around his shoulder to his chest. He trailed down to his naval, across his groin to hold both hips in turn, back to his round butt, down the pale legs as far as Brian could reach without kneeling, all the while their mouths were joined.**

**Justin's hands held Brian's back, open palmed, holding them pressed together, but allowing space between them. His mouth slid from Brian's, moving down to his chin, his jaw, sliding down the long column of his throat to his shoulders while Brian's hands continued to stroked over his skin.**

**They moved back to where they were both under the water, feeling it hit, warm, sting with its heat and course down them, between them. It made it seem slightly unreal, somehow, as though the water were almost an intruder, as though it was trying to become a third party to what they were doing.**

**Almost roughly, Brian turned him around, his mouth on his neck, his shoulder, his hand reaching for the ever-present condom in the wall niche. Using soap as a lube, he opened Justin, pressing quickly inside, pausing as he adjusted to the familiar feeling and knowing when the smaller man was ready for him. They had developed a private language for sex, for lovemaking and Brian knew that when he inhaled deeply, he was ready to go on.**

**One arm around Justin's belly and chest, the other moving on his cock to the same rhythm he was thrusting they both knew at once that this wouldn't last long. They had been away from one another for almost four days and that was simply too long for them both.**

**Groaning, Brian came first, Justin starting his orgasm before Brian had finished his.**

**Leaning against the glass, Brian pressed against Justin's back, using the wall to support them both; the only sounds were their own breathing and the water still splashing onto them, hitting the floor.**

**Their arms were around one another, Brian's around Justin's waist, Justin's hands holding them there.**

**After a couple of minutes they separated, disposed of the used condom, Justin turning around to embrace Brian, holding him as the water rinsed them off. Reaching up, Justin kissed his husband. "Thank you for the flowers."**

"**You're welcome." He smiled as he said it. Taking Justin's hand, he opened the shower door, took a towel and dried Justin off, then himself.**

**A few minutes later, dressed in jeans and sweaters and with their hair still damp, Justin starting dinner, they talked quietly.**

"**Was the trip alright?"**

"**We landed five of the accounts we pitched and I'm supposed to go back in a few weeks to follow up with Coca-Cola. They want to try a different spin in a couple of their markets."**

"**Coke? That's really the major leagues." Justin kissed him. "I'm proud of you. Can you take a little time to rest after that, maybe a long weekend?"**

**Brian got them each a beer. "Maybe in a couple of months, not right now."**

"**Brian, you said that when you got back..."**

"**Maybe in a few months."**


	4. April

**April**

"**Come on, it'll be great, you'll see. We'll go and sit on a beach and you can relax and rest up and then we can spend every night fucking our brains out."**

**Brian was tired of the conversation, but, as usual, when Justin had some idea in his head, he was a fucking bulldog about it. The others with them, Em and Michael and Ben exchanged small smiles. They'd heard this sort of thing before, too many times.**

**Shit.**

"**I told you that I'd think about it, now leave me the fuck alone."**

"**But..." Brian gave him one of his really pissed off glares. Justin went on anyway. "If we're going, we'll have to make the reservations this week and it's already Thursday. I'll have to call them tomorrow."**

**Not saying anything, Brian got up, walked out of Woody's, crossed the street to the 'vette, opened the car door, turned the key in the ignition and was about to leave Justin where he was when he heard the knock on the passenger door. Relenting, after a suitable thirty-second delay, he unlocked the door, letting his husband in.**

**They made the ten-minute trip in silence. They rode the elevator up in silence and when they went into the loft they separated to different areas. Brian headed for his computer, Justin to the TV. After about a silent hour, Justin got up, went over to Brian.**

"**I'm not trying to piss you off, I just thought that it would be fun to go away together."**

"**It would be, but not with a hundred thousand drunk students in fucking Cancun."**

**He crouched down beside Brian's chair, covering Brian's hand with his own. "So we can go somewhere else, wherever you want. It doesn't matter, Brian, just so that we're together and you can get a break."**

**Brian picked up Justin's hand in his own, kissing the back, holding onto it. "I can't get away now. The Coke contract was signed this afternoon and I have to work on that. They want a presentation in two weeks in Atlanta."**

"**Goddamn it, Brian. You fucking promised." Justin pulled his hand away, standing up. "You knew this when you got home. You probably knew this a couple of days ago and you just jerked me along with this 'oh we'll get away' shit." Justin was shaking his head, as angry as he'd ever been with Brian and that was saying quite a lot. "Just like you always do—'stupid Sunshine will get over it'. Well fuck you."**

"**I knew on Tuesday that we had the account. I only found out this afternoon about the actual schedule. We can go away when this campaign is approved."**

"**You're so full of shit. There's always another fucking account or some client who needs his dick stroked."**

**The next hour was spent in more silence. Justin was upstairs reading, or pretending to read in bed. Brian pretended to work on the computer. Around one he stripped and climbed in beside his husband. The lights were off. He put his hand on the pale shoulder turned away from him. He knew Justin was still awake.**

"**You should go. Maybe Daphne could go with you." He spoke quietly, knowing it wasn't what Justin wanted to hear.**

"**I don't want to go with Daphne. I want to go with you."**

"**I know that, but I can't and there's no reason for you to just sit home. I'll be going to Atlanta a couple of times a week at least through the end of the month anyway." He was gently rubbing the skin. "I want you to have fun. I won't even be here a good part of the time."**

"**Goddamn it, Brian..."**

"**Justin, go with Daphne. I'll even pay her way."**

"**Are you trying to fucking get rid of me?" He turned over, staring at Brian.**

"**I'm trying to let you have a good time with one of your friends since I can't go with you. I thought that you might enjoy yourself."**

"**Damnit, Brian—we've only been married a few months and you're already suggesting separate vacations."**

**God, more drama queening. "I can't go now, you have a week off. This isn't that big a deal."**

**Justin looked at him, staring, intent. Finally he asked, "...Are you still tricking?"**

**Jesus.**

"**I told you when we got married that I wouldn't have said the vows if I didn't mean them."**

"**So you're not?"**

**Brian put his hand on Justin's cheek. "I haven't been with anyone else since about a month before Vermont."**

**Justin looked at, weighing what he had just said. "When—if—I go, will you..."**

"**No." Brian leaned in, kissing the young man. He had meant what he had said, in Vermont and five seconds ago. When he and Justin had married, he had decided that was it. Alright, he didn't honestly see an occasional fuck a big deal, but he knew Justin didn't see it that way and he honestly didn't want to hurt him—and he knew tricking would cause Justin pain. Besides, he'd meant that shit about the vows—he wouldn't have said that 'forsaking all others' line if he didn't intend to go along with it.**

**Shit, he edited things for a living; he could have red-penciled that without a pause if he had a problem with it.**

**He had argued with himself over this for quite a while, telling himself that he wasn't responsible for Justin's happiness—and it was true. On the other hand, he didn't want to be the cause of unhappiness if he could avoid it.**

**Justin had never actually asked him to stop screwing around, he had never said he would stop, but he had with nothing being said. It was one of those unspoken agreements, at least as far as he was concerned.**

**He started to stroke his hands along Justin's side, up as far as his ear then down as far as his wrist. Make up sex seemed to be called for, whether he had to get up at six or not.**

**Around ten the next morning Brian was in a meeting when his cel went off. Over Vance's annoyed expression and with a brief, "Excuse me, this will just take a moment" he went to the window and spoke softly enough to not be over heard.**

"**Yes, I want you to go...I fucking told you that I'd pay for Daphne, too. Tell her that she'll just need to cover her spending money...No you twat, you can't take my credit card or any of my clothes. Take your own fucking stuff...Yes. Book it...I'll see you when I get home."**

**When he sat back down, Vance spoke first. "Problems, Brian?"**

"**No, Gardner. Everything's fine."**

"**Good."**

**A half-hour later Vance found Brian in the art department looking over some roughs for Coke. "Have you a minute?"**

**They went out to the hallway, the others giving them a wide berth.**

"**Look, Brian, I know you've been putting in a tremendous amount of hours the last few months, is this causing problems at home?"**

"**No, of course not." Vance had been working almost as much. "Why, is Susan upset with your schedule?"**

"**My wife understands that I need to travel and all of that. I have no wish to intrude, but does Justin understand this as well?" He saw the startled, annoyed expression flicker across Brian's face. "Forgive me, he's so young. It must be difficult for him."**

"**Yes, he does understand and he's fine." Fucking shit. He was slipping badly if Vance was questioning him about this. Fuck and fuck again.**

"**Good."**

**A week later Brian slid the door open in the loft. It was after eleven, he was exhausted and Justin had left three days ago. Taking advantage of being alone for a while, he had been upping his hours to get everything done, allowing him to leave for Georgia with a clear conscience. He debated between finding something to eat and a shower, realized that he was too fucking tired for either and opted for fifteen minutes of the late news, a glass of JB to relax him and bed.**

**He was due at the airport at six thirty the next morning to catch a flight to Atlanta, head straight to the Coca Cola Headquarters and give the presentation to coke's own in house ad people so that they would all be on the same page.**

**With any luck he would be able to sleep a couple of hours on the plane.**

**He had accepted Vance's offer of a car service. Cynthia would be going with him.**

**The news was boring. He was about to hit the sheets when he went to the desk. Booted the computer.**

**Yes, an e-mail from Justin. Good.**

"**Dear Brian,**

**We're having the best time and I miss you madly, totally, completely. Daph is great, but she's not who I want in my bed, but you know that.**

**Hot, sunny, fabulous. Crowded, noisy, hordes of drunks. Incredible water, amazing snorkeling, we're learning to scuba—will dive tomorrow on a wreck.**

**Eating everything but not eating anybody. Waiting till I get some homegrown meat.**

**Daph says that if I tell her once more how much I miss you she'll drown me tomorrow.**

**Are you OK? I was getting worried about you alone. I know you eat crap and don't sleep if I'm there.**

**You promised to cut back and get some rest while I'm gone. Are you? Please. For me, OK?**

**I love you. I miss you. I love you.**

**J"**

**Shit. Yeah, rest.**

**If he slowed down the others would catch up.**

**He did manage to sleep in the plane and managed to put on a show of complete professionalism for the ones who needed to be impressed. On the way out of the meeting his arm was caught by the senior account guy, Mark something. Gardar pinging like fucking sonar, he asked if I was busy for lunch—seems there was some shit he wanted to go over with Brian. Yeah, no shit.**

"**Thanks, but if you don't mind, I need to get a hold of my office for a bit. If you have some time after lunch we could talk."**

"**...Yeah, sure. No problem. If you want, you can use my office. Dial "9" to get an outside line and if you need to connect your modem, just ask my secretary, she'll set you up. I'll catch you about two, if that's alright."**

"**Great. I'll see you then."**

**He called Vance, told him that things were going just fine, that he had two more meetings today and a couple tomorrow and should be back in the office the day after. Next he got the secretary to get the fucking computer working. She also got him a sandwich and some mineral water.**

**Naturally, he had mail. He always had mail.**

"**Dear Brian,**

**I haven't heard from you since my last e-mail. Are you alright? I'm worried.**

**I love you.**

**J"**

**There was a second one with Justin's return addy.**

**Dear Brian,**

**Please write Justin. If he doesn't hear from you he makes me crazy.**

**Love, Daphne.**

**PS. When guys hit on him—which they do A LOT, he just oh-so-casually twists rests his chin in his left hand, shows his ring and says, nonchalantly, "Fuck off, I'm married." You sooooo have nothing to worry about.**

**Dear Justin,**

**Yes, I'm fine.**

**Yes, I miss you.**

**Yes, I'm getting rest.**

**Yes, I'm eating.**

**And, yes, I'll try to go with you next time.**

**B**

**When Justin had asked if he's be traveling this week, he had said that the schedule wasn't finalized. He had left the young man with the impression that he'd be close to home, that he would be able to get some down time and that he'd likely spent some evenings hanging with the boys at Woody's.**

**The finalized schedule had put him in Chicago Monday and Tuesday. Home Wednesday morning, in the office the rest of the day then Atlanta the rest of the week. He hadn't bothered to unpack, just took out the worn clothing, replacing them with fresh. He had slept in their bed once this week. Next week looked about the same only then it would be New York on Monday, Long Island on Tuesday, Albany on Wednesday, home Thursday and back to Atlanta on Thursday night. He'd be home again Saturday morning in time to get Justin and Daphne at the airport Saturday evening.**

**Christ. He was a walking zombie. When he had asked Vance if, possibly, someone else could do the minor clients just this once, he had been informed that they wanted to feel important and that meant a partner. In fairness, Vance was working the same hours in Pittsburgh and Brian knew that when Justin got home he wouldn't be asked to travel quite so much, but still—he was fucking tired.**

**He finally told Vance that when Coke was put to bed, he wanted a couple of weeks to recoup. There had been no argument. This was the account that would put them in the major leagues and Brian was the one who was responsible for the whole thing, concept to pitch to sale to finish.**

**A week later he was finishing up a meeting on the fifty-seventh floor of the Chrysler Building. Another day, another pitch. Vance wanted to get their toes in the New York waters and today it was the headquarters for new upstart computer company wanting to crack the inexpensive high school/college market. When Brian told them that inexpensive was great but that a lot of the students needed cutting edge shit and, yes, would know the difference, they had agreed to rethink the direction they had planned. In fact they had congratulated him on his having his pulse on the student market.**

**No shit. He lived with one.**

**On the way to the elevator, the Vice President of the company, who was about twenty three, casually brushed his hand across Brian's crotch, lingering a moment and looking him in the eye.**

"**I'll be late for my next meeting."**

"**Maybe you'd like to have dinner? I know some great places."**

"**I'm not interested."**

"**You interested in the account?"**

"**In the account, yes, I'm just not interested in you."**

**The president joined them. This one was all of twenty-four. "Ted! There you two are. Mr. Kinney, I'll have those signed contracts in your offices day after tomorrow. This is just the sort of thing we've been looking for, right Ted?"**

**Annoyed, Ted had no choice but to agree. Asshole.**

**A car was waiting to take him to the hotel he was booked in for the night in Oyster Bay in preparation for the next day's meeting in neighboring Glen Cove. Arriving at about five, he was, politely, informed that they had no record of his reservation and, because of the convention, were booked solid, as were all the local hotels. Well, yes, that was one of their confirmation numbers, but it wasn't coming up in the computer.**

**Shit.**

**The front desk looked up a number for him and even allowed him to use their phone.**

"**Hello, Bill? It's Brian. I'm sorry to call like this with no warning, but I was hoping that you would be able to put me up tonight...No, Justin isn't with me, I'm just here for a couple of days for business and they've lost my reservation...That's great. Thank you. I appreciate it...Soon, fifteen, twenty minutes."**

**The hotel had him driven to Justin's grandparents, less than five miles away.**

"**Brian, this is a nice surprise. Come in here, Have you eaten?" Justin's grandfather was shaking his hand, taking his bag and his coat.**

**Claudia, Justin's grandmother, came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. "I hope you're hungry." He hugged her, kissing her cheek. They had met twice before, once last summer at Jen's house for a cookout and last Christmas he had stayed with them for a few days before he and Justin had gone to get married. He liked them both.**

**In the kitchen the food was ready, a casserole, probably constructed from leftovers, but hot and filling and just fine. The conversation was mostly small talk. Brian filled them in on his business, told them that Justin had gone on vacation without him at his own insistence and that they were both fine, thanks, and happy.**

**After the meal, he stayed to help with the dishes while Bill left to watch the news. Claudia wasn't one to beat around the bush.**

"**Sweetie, are you all right? Excuse my saying this, but you look like you're about dead on your feet."**

**He smiled, sipped some coffee. "I'm alright. I've just been doing a lot of traveling the last couple of months. There's been a lot of over time."**

"**I understand that you're good at what you do."**

"**Yes."**

"**Is Justin upset that you couldn't go with him? I know that when I was a newlywed, I wanted Bill next to me every night." She laughed. "Yes, I still do, well most nights, anyway."**

"**He's alright, Justin, I mean." It wasn't enough.**

"**Brian, I know better than that. Are you two having problems making the adjustment to being married?" She closed the door to the dishwasher, turning to sit with him at the table.**

**Hell's bells. "What's Jen been saying to you?"**

**She poured herself a cup of the coffee, gestured to a cake, if he wanted a piece. He didn't. "She hasn't said much, just that she thinks that Justin is a little frustrated at the amount of time you devote to your job and that his friends don't—forgive me for saying this—don't always seem comfortable around you."**

**He gestured with his hands. "He knows that my work is important to me and I can't help it if I don't have much in common with college kids and midterms. Justin understands this."**

"**Honey, he may understand it and I know that he loves you to death, but that doesn't mean that it's good for him or that it will make him happy."**

"**You're not suggesting that I quit my job and go back to school, are you? Maybe get another master's?"**

"**Of course not. Just keep in mind that he's not where you are, he's still going through all those things you did years ago."**

"**Claudia, shit, I know that. That's why he's in Mexico right now for Spring Break with a bunch of fucking college students"**

"**While you're breaking your back working, he's off playing. Brian, sweetie, I know that you're just trying to let him be a college student, but he needs to be your husband and know that you need him." She paused for a second. "Or at least that you take him as an equal."**

"**I do." He was close to using his glare.**

"**Honey, you sent him out to play with his friends so you could do the real work without him getting in the way. You might get away with this once, but he's smart as a whip and he knows exactly what you've done. Can I give you some free advice from someone who's known him longer than you have? Don't do it again." She patted his hand. "I know you want to tell me to mind my own business, but you know that Justin is my business and since you two got married, so are you."**

**He gave her a half smile, really not up to dealing with family crap right now, but fuck it. It was her kitchen. Leaning, he kissed her cheek.**

**Later that night Brian set up his laptop in the study, connected to the phone line and checked his mail.**

**Dear Brian,**

**Daph isn't here. She hooked up with some guy from UCLA on the beach today and I guess she's getting laid.**

**I can hear the people in the next room going at it and it's making me so horny I can't stand it.**

**God I miss you.**

**I keep thinking about walking along the beach with you, holding hands, going into the water when we get hot, making love all the time and eating this amazing food.**

**I look at the guys here and some of them are hot and they hit on me a lot and all I want is you. I want you next to me and I wish your arms were around me and that we could sleep together and wake up and make love and you could finally get enough sleep (I mean when we're not busy) and that you'd smile that Brian smile you get when you've just cum and you're happy and relaxed and we're really together.**

**I miss you. I love you.**

**I look at my ring and I touch it and I love you so much.**

**J**

**Brian hit 'reply'.**

**Dear Justin,**

**I think that this might have been a mistake, you going away.**

**I know you're having a good time, and that's what I wanted, but I want us to be together.**

**Yes, I miss you, too.**

**B**

**The reply came back almost immediately.**

**I love you, Brian.**


	5. May

**May**

**Justin**

**So I got back from Mexico on May first and it had been so great. I mean, Daph and I had this incredible time but as soon as we got off the plane and saw Brian waiting at the International Arrivals area I knew that he'd been working his ass off and not sleeping or eating enough.**

**Shit, he looked so damn happy to see me—in his Brian way, of course—he hugged me and kissed me right in the fucking airport and it was funny because there were these two middle aged women who had been standing near him waiting for someone. I guess they had been telling each other how handsome he is or something and then Daph and I came over to him and he squeezed her shoulder and kissed the top of her head and then really kissed me.**

**The two women just sort of shrugged and smiled like "Oh, well." You know what, though? They seemed to look happy that we were so happy.**

**It was kind of nice.**

**We got about twenty feet down the corridor on the way to the car and he stopped and just sort if picked me up in this big bear hug and kissed me again, I mean really kissed me like we were at the prom again and it was that same kiss with people watching and we didn't fucking care.**

**But, Jesus, Brian—he had these circles under his eyes like he hadn't had a full night's sleep since I left and I wasn't sure, but I think he might have lost weight.**

**Anyway, we dropped Daphne off at her place and when we got back to the loft it was like around ten at night. I'd been telling him all about the trip, the restaurants and the beach and scuba diving and the kids we met and he'd been listening but not saying much.**

**He asked me if I wanted something to eat or anything and then said that what he'd really like would be a shower and maybe just hang together.**

**Shit.**

**Saturday night and Brian wants a shower and bed? Fuck me; he must have been barely walking.**

**So we took the shower and he did me, but it was like he was only doing it because he thought that I'd expect it or something. That sounded shitty. It's not what I really mean, he wanted me, I know that, just like I wanted him, but he was so fucking tired that I think he really would have rather just crawled into bed and slept til Monday.**

**So after the shower I went to start unpacking my bag, mostly because I wanted to give him the presents I'd gotten him and he just said not to worry about it, that it could wait til morning.**

**Well, that was OK, so I started yawning and saying that it had been a really busy day and we'd hardly slept the night before, so would he mind if I just sort of hit the sack?**

**He made a face like I was a complete twat and said something about how he would think that at my age I could keep up with the nightlife, but he didn't fight it too hard and we just went to bed at like eleven. Maybe it was even a little before.**

**Jesus, he didn't even frigging move until like noon the next day.**

**We had dinner at Deb's that night, the usual family were there and, shit, he almost fell asleep again right in the ziti. Everyone made jokes about how I was wearing him out, but—shit, you know?**

**He can't keep this up—oh shut up, but he really can't. He'll burn out or have a heart attack like one of my father's executives a couple of years ago or he'll, I don't know, but when there's that much pressure something has to give.**

**It has to.**

**Shit.**

**He said that we'd talk about him working a little less, but every time I try to bring it up he changes the subject or just won't engage. Goddamnit.**

**I know he's type A and a workaholic and all that shit, but fuck. He's becoming frigging obsessed and it's like I can hardly get through to him anymore about it. It's almost like when he stopped tricking—and yeah, I believe him when he told me he'd stopped—it's like he had to find something else to replace it with.**

**It's like I'm not enough for him or he wants to put different walls up or some shit like that.**

**Shit.**

**Jennifer**

**Justin had been home for about a week when he and Brian agreed to come over for lunch. Justin had bough presents for me and Molly—though nothing for Craig, which I found petty and hurtful—and I was dying to see him. I know he's all grown up, or thinks he is, but he'll always be my sweet blonde baby even though he's in his twenties and married and a college student. I've worried about him for two decades, I don't think anything could make me stop now.**

**The problem is that now I have someone else to worry about, too.**

**Brian.**

**I know that for a long time I couldn't stand him and I certainly blamed him for almost everything, but as I got to know him a little better—not that there aren't things about him that make my skin crawl—I see that he had a rather large good side and I know he and Justin love each other.**

**For better or worst, he's part of the family, at least for a while.**

**Justin had brought us Mexican wedding dresses, bright and colorful and charming. Well, I may never wear something like that, but they are lovely, in their way. Molly went up to try hers on immediately.**

**We all oohed and aahed when she came down the stairs, but it was obvious that the only one whose opinion she cared about was Brian's. I don't know that she'll ever get over the crush she's developed on him and I'm simply glad that he's kind to her about it.**

**He really can be sweet when he makes an effort, kissing her cheek and whispering something that made her blush and giggle. It wouldn't surprise me it she ended up with a straight version of him someday.**

**Molly pulled Justin's arm to make him go see some graphics she'd been learning on the computer, so Brian and I were alone in the kitchen for a little while.**

**He's normally such a beautiful man that to see him tired and drawn was almost a shock. It's just something I guess I never thought I'd see. My mother had been on the phone about him a few days ago and she told me that he'd dropped in and that, though glad to see him, they were concerned. I gather that he was pretty exhausted when he was there, too.**

"**Was Justin upset that you couldn't go away with him?"**

"**He was a little disappointed, but he understands that I can't always take off when I'd like to."**

"**Do you think you might be able to go with him next time?"**

**He shrugged slightly. "I'm not sure. It would depend when." He took a drink of his beer considering whether or not to continue. "Right now the agency is trying to expand the client base, branch out to some of the larger markets, but between not being one of the really high profile companies and the economy sucking, it's not easy."**

"**So as a partner, you have to knock on doors to try to impress them."**

"**Pretty much."**

**Yes, Brian would be the one to have to make the calls. Just having him walk into your office, all Armanied and slick and smart and handsome and tall would impress anyone. Of course Vance was having him do it. When you combined Brian's personal package with whatever he would bring with him in his briefcase, he would get anyone's attention.**

**Justin and Molly were back. "Hey, Brian? Molly's class is going rafting on the Monongahela on Tuesday. I told her that I'd help as a chaperone. Could you come, too? The water is so fucking high this year, it'll be awesome."**

"**I have to go to Phoenix on Tuesday."**

"**Since fucking when?"**

"**Since Vance called this morning."**

"...**And when the fuck were you going to tell me?"**

**The two of them glared at one another for a few seconds before Brian switched his attention to Molly. "I'll go next time. OK? I promise." She just nodded at him. He was still her hero, but she had obviously wanted to show him off to her friends. He saw the look. "What time?"**

**All hope not lost, she looked at him. "The buses leave the school at seven thirty and we're supposed to get back at seven at night."**

**He took his phone out of his pocket, dialed. "Cynthia? What time is that meeting with the people in Arizona?...Alright. See if they can change it to Wednesday, anytime that's good for them. Then get me on a flight later Tuesday night—after nine...No, something came up, that's all...Tell Vance that I won't be in Tuesday and I won't have my phone with me...Call me if there's a problem. Thanks."**

**I have to admit it, there are times I want to wring his neck, but seeing the looks on both of my kid's faces, Brian is a better man than he lets on.**

**Justin**

**I couldn't believe it when Brian changed that meeting so he could go on Molly's class trip. Shit.**

**If she practically worshiped the ground he walks on before, she probably thinks he walks on water now.**

**So, Tuesday morning we had to get up at six to wake up and get dressed and get our asses out to the school in time to get on the bus. There were like a hundred twelve year olds and some yuppie parents and some teachers and me and Brian.**

**I couldn't believe the look on Molly's face when we parked the car and walked over to her and her friends. Ten teenyboppers all giggling at the sight of Brian in his jeans and a black tee. He honestly wasn't trying to look hot or anything, but shit—this is Brian we're talking about. He looks hot when he's unconscious for fuck's sake. He just smiled and kissed Molly on the cheek and said "Hi, Sis", which turned her bright red.**

**The principal came over—I remember her from when I was a student there, Dr. Adams, a real bitch—and introduced herself to Brian and lied through her teeth about what a great kid I'd been when I was there. She was giving Brian the once over, too. Like he cared. She even made some bullshit small talk about how it was nice that a family friend would help the children like this.**

**Brian just said it was no problem, what with Molly being family and all. Oh, was he our uncle or something? No, he was her brother-in-law. Gosh, Dr. Adams hadn't realized that I had a married older sister. That's when Brian told her that we're married.**

**I thought she'd swallow her teeth, homophobic cunt.**

**Just about then the woman who had the chaperone assignments came over to hand us the lists of kids we'd be watching. Molly and all of her friends were with Brian. I got the class geeks/nerds/losers. I almost kicked Brian's ass when he gave me one of his smirks.**

**Asshole.**

**So the bus ride was mostly fine. My group was either reading or playing Gameboy and completely ignoring me and everyone else on the planet, including each other. Hell, at least they were quiet.**

**Brian's group were laughing and flirting with him, Molly right in the seat next to him.**

**I was watching the other kids on the bus and it was pretty fucking funny. The girls were all in love, that was petty obvious, but it was the boys I really liked watching—no, not like that. I mean, they were watching Brian to see how he did it.**

**OK, he had decided to make it good for Molly, so he was talking and joking with his group of little girls. He was watching his language except when he'd slip in an occasional 'fuck' or something and then they'd all giggle. Right, like he wasn't doing that on purpose.**

**The boys, though—they were the ones who were watching to see if they could spot his tricks. There was the confidence, of course, but they were also checking what he was wearing and I'd be willing to bet that the next day about half of the boys would be wearing old Levi's and black tees and would be getting their hair cut like his.**

**So we get to the launch site and the rafts were waiting for us. The water was pretty cold since it was still spring and it was running pretty damn high. We were offered the rental of wetsuits, but I think the school decided that would add too much onto the cost of the trip, so we did without. It was a warm day, so even if someone did get wet (like duh, of course they were going to get fucking soaked) they'd dry off fairly quickly. Or that was the hope. Of course if someone went in, they'd be a while before they stopped sloshing.**

**They pushed off, twelve to a raft, ten kids, a guide and a chaperone and it was a Hell of a ride, let me tell you. There were some small rapids and there were places where we were just drifting and it was incredibly beautiful then there'd be another set of white water and things would get exciting again. The kids were shouting back and forth and they were even doing some singing and the expected splashing and stuff, just having a good time. Around twelve thirty the rafts pulled up onto a bank for a cookout lunch that was waiting for us and Brian had his handmaidens to wait on him. Shit—I'm just starting to call things like that Brian Kinney moments. It's just so him.**

**The girls were falling all over themselves to get him anything in the world and I was wondering if they knew he's gay, so I pulled Mol aside and asked her.**

"**God, of course they do. They just think he's gorgeous."**

"**What do they think of me?"**

"**God, Justin, you're my brother." I know, I'm a fucking idiot.**

**So we finished our lunch and got back into the rafts. The guides had told us that there some strong rapids in about a mile and to be careful.**

**Well, OK, I'll make a long story short. The raids were really rough. The guides said something about the amount of snow we'd had last winter and that there was a lot of runoff.**

**One of Brian's kids went over the side. I caught a glimpse of him making a lunge for her and it looked like the raft jolted then—I guess it hit a rock—and he went over the side too.**

**Jesus.**

**I think I yelled his name, but my raft was in the same current then and there wasn't anything I could do but keep an eye on my kids.**

**At the end of the whitewater I was so fucking scared. Brian's raft had pulled over to the shore and I could see a lot of scrambling around and all the guides knew that someone had gone over so they were all searching the water.**

**Christ.**

**The rest of the rafts pulled over and a couple of Brian's girls were crying. I was scared shitless. The guides, some of them, had gotten out of the boats to search the shore and finally, fucking finally, radio word came in that they were OK about two hundred yards up the stream.**

**Molly caught my eye and she gave me this big smile.**

**Finally fifteen minutes later they showed up and the guides pulled some old sweats out of a chest that was in one of the rafts, handed them to the two of them and showed them some bushes they could get dry clothes on in privacy.**

**Fuck it, I didn't care. I jumped out of the fucking raft and ran over to where Brian was changing. One of the guides was asking him if he was hurt or anything, but he was fine—just cold, wet and shaken up.**

**Screw the heteros. I hugged him and kissed him and probably would have channeled Emmett with tears and everything, but he kissed me and just whispered not to have a twat moment, he was fine, I should grow some balls for Chrissake.**

**I had to hug him again to make sure he was really OK, then we went back to the rafts. It was starting to get late and they were still the only ride home.**

**The rest of the trip was pretty subdued. Cindy, the girl who fell out was fine. Her ankle had a slight sprain, but it wasn't serious. She'd be fine.**

**The story came out on the bus ride back.**

**She'd lost her balance when they'd hit the big rapid and, like we saw, Brian tried to grab her but got knocked out of the raft, too.**

**He had tried to find her. The rafts had passed them by and were going too fast to even think about trying to catch up with. He said that he looked around for her but that he couldn't see her. Then he thought—Jesus!—that she might have been held under by the force of the water, so he started looking and saw her shirt underwater—it was screaming bright yellow—he somehow swam under to where she was trapped by the force of the water coming over the rocks. He'd managed to get a hand around her arm, pulled her away and got her to shore.**

**I have no fucking idea why she didn't drown, but she didn't.**

**You know how on school trips the kids would always sit in the same seats going and coming home? This is the first trip I'd seen where people actually moved. I went up so that I was directly behind Brian with Mol next to me and Brian was sitting the entire trip with his arms around Cindy and rubbing her back while her friends told anyone who'd listen for the twentieth time that he'd saved her life.**

**When we got back to the school, as soon as they heard what had happened, Cindy's parents wanted to take Brian out to dinner right then and there to thank him, but he said that he had to catch a flight, thanks anyway. Oh, what do you do? A partner at Vanguard? Good for you.**

**Brian really hates the kind of scene in that parking lot. You know, everyone making a big deal over him, especially people he doesn't know, especially a bunch of heteros. He still's a complete heterophobe and he was itching to get away.**

**We got back to the loft and all I wanted to do, and I think all Brian wanted to do, too, was to get something to eat, grab a shower, make love then sleep into next week. Instead he changed his clothes, got his bag and I took him to the airport.**

**He'd be back in two days.**

**Shit.**

**The next day there was a delivery at the door when I got home from class. Cindy's parents had sent a case of Moet champagne with a card on top. I opened it. It was a gift certificate to Le Pommier along with a letter from both of them. It was heartfelt, thanking him for saving their daughter and promising to call him when he returned from his trip. They added that Cindy had talked about nothing but him and they were just grateful he'd been along.**

**And the damn reporters were calling, too. They heard about what had happened and would like to interview him. Sorry, he's out of town. I saw the report anyway that night on the local station. Cindy was there with her parents, singing his praises and vowing to make it up to him.**

**Christ, Brian would have a fit.**

**Brian**

**I can't fucking believe it. I actually take a day off and I end up in the frigging newspapers.**

**Vance made one of his casual appearances in my office, asked me how my day off had been and segued to the Arizona trip.**

**I told him it had been fine, that we likely would get the account since I'd seen the paste ups from some other agency on an easel and they were for shit.**

**He said 'good' or something noncommittal like that. As he left he did add that he was glad that this time the coverage about me was positive, at least.**

**What the fuck was he talking about this time?**

**Cynthia had a clipping ready when I asked.**

**Shit.**

**That's it. I'm taking a fucking week off. Justin and I, we're fucking out of here.**

**There was one good thing that came out of all this bullshit, though.**

**I flew back home two days later, Thursday. I'd taken an early flight from Phoenix and gone straight to the office to check in and see what new fires needed dousing, cause God knows there's always something sliding off the stove onto the floor. A conference call from the heads of both Bethlehem and US Steel came in for me about five minutes after I sat down. They were talking about a merger and wanted me to come over for a meeting with the CEO's and company presidents to discuss taking them on as clients, to help them compete internationally.**

**Oh yeah. The CEO for US Steel was Cindy's father.**

**Debbie**

**So I saw Sunshine and Brian walk in for breakfast and I was going to say something about that article in the paper about Brian saving that little girl when I caught the look on Justin's face. You know, when he gets that sort look of panic and I know that if I open my mouth the Asshole, excuse me, Brian will tear out my tonsils.**

**So, OK, I know when to keep my mouth shut.**

**The two of them sat down and I just had to say it.**

"**Brian. You look like shit."**

**He gave me one of his, 'I don't give a fuck what you say' looks, but I'd seen that look back when he was still perfecting it so I just went on.**

"**You need to go home and sleep and you should think about taking a nice long vacation—with your husband for a change." He pretended to read the menu. "You listen to me, asshole, because you look like you're about to fall on your face and I sure as Hell don't want to have to deal with all the drama queens around here if you drop dead. You hear me?"**

"**Black coffee and half a grapefruit. We're going away next month for two weeks, so get off my fucking back."**


	6. June

**June Part 1**

**June Pt. 1**

"**Did you mean it? I mean about us going away for a couple of weeks?"**

**Brian looked up from the computer. "Yes, I meant it. I just have to finish this report and clear up a few things."**

**Justin came around behind him, wrapping his arms around the larger man's shoulders and kissing his neck as he looked at the graphics on the screen. "Where are we going?"**

**He managed a few more keystrokes before answering. "...I spoke to your grandparents last week. They said that they'd let us use their place in Canada."**

"**Brian? Really? Oh, God—you'll love it!"**

**He turned to face the youngster. "Good. Now leave me the fuck alone so I can get this done." God, how the fuck was he going to pull this off?**

**A week later they were taking the water taxi across the roughly miles to the house. It was located on the Rideau Lake in Ontario, about and hour or so above the New York State line. There was no road to the house; the car was left at the marina. For decades there were no phones, but the grandparents increasing age had forced the precaution of adding a line just last year in case of emergency. The only other communication with the main land was by boat, of which the grandparents owned three. There was the antique CrisCraft, a 26 foot mahogany beauty that Justin was afraid to start, a small outboard for the kids to use and a rowboat for fishing. They had all been prepped for summer.**

**The house was just that. It was no cabin, no cottage. It sat on about twenty acres, had four bedrooms, a fireplace, two porches, a guesthouse and a boathouse. It was winterized for year round use.**

**The place was a gem. It was rustic and unpretentious. It had old samplers stitched by long dead relatives and framed photos of deceased family pets and mounted prize fish on the walls. The furniture was the sort that grandchildren would sit on with wet bathing suits and not be scolded.**

**It's name (as homes on the lake were all named, not numbered) was 'Peace a Plenty'.**

**It was perfect.**

**Justin had spent most of the summers of his life there. He loved it wholeheartedly and without reservation.**

**They carried their bags and the groceries they'd brought with them up from where they had been deposited on the dock, unlocked the front door, opened a few windows and unpacked their clothes in a front bedroom upstairs. It was the one with the picture window view of the lake.**

**Justin managed to get the water heater working and the power had been turned on earlier that week. Dinner was a steak and some salad along with some cold beer.**

**They were sitting on the old glider on the enclosed front porch, Justin resting against Brian, watching the occasional running lights of a passing boat. The sun had set a couple of hours ago and they were finally relaxed against one another after the long drive up and the last few months. They could hear loons calling.**

**Pulling Brian's hand up to his mouth, Justin kissed his knuckles. "You know it's our anniversary? Six months."**

"**Oh, Christ. You're not going to start that shit, are you?"**

**Justin turned, kissing him. "It's not shit."**

**Brian was about to make some rejoinder but seemingly changed his mind, pulling Justin down to lie against him again. "This is the first time we've been really alone together, I think since we've known each other."**

"**For more than just a day or two, yeah."**

"**It feels good."**

**The next morning Justin stretched, waking slowly. The sun was coming through the windows; he could hear a boat going by. There was a faint smell of coffee. He was alone.**

**Shit.**

**He looked over at the clock. It was almost eleven.**

**He pulled on a pair of jeans and a tee, stopped in the bathroom and found Brian with his laptop set up, modem connected to the new phone line, working on the dining room table.**

**Kissing the back of his neck, he said, "I didn't know you'd brought that. I thought you were just going to relax."**

"**I just had to check a couple of things. There's coffee if you want it."**

"**Thanks, You want some more?"**

**Brian nodded, absorbed in whatever was on the screen. Sighing, Justin wandered to the kitchen to get the pot.**

"**I'll bring one of the boats around front. There are all these great things I want to show you. Did you know there's an old Indian graveyard on one of the back islands that almost no one knows about? And there's an old mica mine—well that's what we always called it, anyway."**

**Brian joined him by the stove where he had started to cook up some eggs. "I just have to finish going over a couple of things. You eat and get dressed and I should be done when you're ready."**

**Two hours later Justin was waiting down on the dock. He had eaten, gotten dressed, cleaned his teeth, finished unpacking, cleaned the kitchen, brought the boat to the front from the boat house, done some quick sketches and was now just waiting.**

**Shit.**

**Giving up, he went back up. Brian hadn't moved. He glanced at the screen. There were notes on some meeting and some rough drafts about some campaign.**

"**Brian, you about ready?"**

"...**Yeah, just a minute."**

**Twenty minutes later. "Brian? I'm going into town to get some more supplies. I'll be back in an hour or so."**

"...**OK."**

**Two hours later Justin was back with the groceries. He handed Brian a turkey sandwich on whole wheat, no mayo while he tapped on the keyboard. "Thanks."**

"**Brian? You going to be ready to go soon?"**

"**Yeah, as soon as I finish this." He didn't even look up.**

**Shit.**

**Justin decided to take a walk down the shore. He'd thought he'd seen a boat go into the dock area of the cottage a half a mile down. Named The Wedding Cake, it was round, white, three stories and looked like its name. The owners were old friends, maybe they were there. Making his way down the path he saw Iver on the dock, doing something with the outboard engine, fixing something.**

"**Hey! I didn't know your family was here already. Look at you, a big college student now." Justin gave Iver a quick hug, a manly hug. Iver was the one who had taught him to fish.**

"**They're not. I'm here for a couple of weeks with..."**

"**I know, your girlfriend."**

"...**My husband."**

"**Whatever." Justin didn't say anything. "I heard you. It doesn't matter to me, just as long as he's good enough for you."**

**That smile broke out. "He is."**

"**So, when did all this happen?"**

**Iver handed him a large hank of rope to carry to the shed. "Just after Christmas."**

"**Newlywed, eh?"**

"**Yup."**

"**Things going alright? The first year takes some getting used to."**

"**We're fine. He just works a lot, that's all."**

**The rope hung on a hook and the old spark plugs tossed in a pail; they walked up to the house.**

"**So you're visiting me while he's working down at your place."**

"**Right."**

**In the kitchen Iver handed Justin one of the two beers he'd gotten from the old fridge. "So take his computer—he brought it, right?" Justin nodded. "Take his computer and either hide it or toss it in the damn lake."**

**Laughing, Justin said, "He'd kill me."**

"**And he'll kill himself, or your marriage if you don't. I see the look on your face."**

"**Iver..."**

"**Don't hand me that. You know I've been reading you like a book since you were five years old. You love this other boy and I'll wager he loves you, but you just have to sit him down and have a talk."**

"**He won't listen. His work is ..."**

"**More important than you are or your marriage?" Iver saw the hesitation. "...If that's the case, you have some thinking to do."**

**Two beers later and with the sun starting to set, Justin headed home. Brian was sitting down on the dock; jeans rolled up and bare feet in the water, smoking a joint.**

"**I thought we were going out, but you disappeared."**

**Slightly drunk, Justin didn't feel conciliatory. "I thought we were going out six hours ago. And why the fuck did you bring the laptop?"**

**Sighing, Brian lay back on the dock, his feet still in the water. Taking Justin's hand, he pulled him down to lie next to him. "There's a lot going on now and if I don't stay on top of it what I'm hoping to do will fall to shit."**

"...**Then why did we come here now and what the fuck is it you're trying to do?"**

**Another toke, hand back and forth. "The steel accounts have opened up some other possible big clients. If I can land them and bring some of my old clients with me, I'll be in a position to break off and start my own agency."**

**Justin rolled onto his side, head in hand. "Are you sure you want to do that?"**

"**It's what I've wanted since I was twenty." That was Justin's age now. "Of course I'm fucking sure." He looked a challenge at Justin, daring him to say anything.**

"**You're practically working yourself into the ground now. If you try to open your own place, the workload will double."**

"**Only for a while, then I'll be able to back off a little."**

"**Brian...bullshit. You've never backed off in our fucking life. You spent the entire day on the fucking computer." He was going to start a harangue but stopped. "We could have postponed this trip or gone somewhere else another time."**

**The sky was painted an incredible array of pinks and blues and purples and golds. The islands around the lake and the shoreline had gone black.**

"**No. We needed to get away now."**

**Justin leaned in to place his mouth on Brian's. At first he met some resistance as if Brian still wanted to talk, but in a few seconds he had allowed Justin to part his lips with his tongue and they were tasting each other's mouths. The smooth glides, the moist, the warmth, the hardness of teeth, the caress of lips were all familiar. They'd done this a hundred, a thousand times before. There was nothing unexpected here; they knew all there was to know about one another's body and how each would react to the different touches and emotions. There was something about getting high that always made Brian impossibly horny—the running joke was that it was his version of the munchies as he would go down on his husband.**

**It was almost dark; they could just make out the swoop of bats and the cries of the loons. Occasionally a fish would jump. In the distance they could hear an outboard motor. The water lapped on the rocks, thirty feet away.**

**Justin's hand worked its way under Brian's shirt, confidently stroking up to the nipples. Knowing exactly what pressure, what movements and timing would be best. Brian's arms casually came up around his back. They knew where this was going, they knew there was no hurry, and they both knew that this was the thing they both wanted right now.**

**When Brian's breathing told him it was time, Justin slid the zipper down, opening the dark pubes to the night air, releasing Brian's cock, hard and ready. His hand stroking, teasing.**

**A smile in the dark, another kiss and he moved down, taking it in his mouth, suckling. Sliding up and down, his hand joining in the caress before moving down beneath and between, stroking the skin behind the sack, knowing it always brought Brian to the edge in seconds. Tonight was no exception. In seconds Justin was wiping off the excess from his mouth and moving up to share the taste.**

**On the shore, neither of them noticed Iver watching.**

**June Part 2**

**June Pt. 2**

**The next day Brian reluctantly agreed to leave the laptop unbooted, other than for a single hour of e-mail. It was more than Justin had hoped for.**

**Taking the outboard, they found the old Indian graveyard Justin remembered, hidden in a tangle of overgrown roots and located on a small uninhabited island on one of the lakes backwaters. It appeared undisturbed from the last time he and Molly had been there. Nearby was the mica mine, really just a large boulder, about the size of a small car heavily veined and flaking. Justin showed him the Narrows and the lock to the Little Rideau, they explored another uninhabited island with a good swimming beach, making love under pine trees, lying atop an old blanket.**

**Justin was ecstatic, the day was relaxed and romantic and he could finally show Brian some of the places he loved so very much.**

**When they got back to the house, Brian wandered out to the hammock, a report with him. Justin had stayed in the kitchen to fix himself a second lunch.**

**As he was about halfway through the thing, he heard footsteps, interrupting his reading.**

"**Unless you're planning to suck me off, leave me alone to finish this."**

"**That wasn't my intention, but I can ask Justin to come out here to take care of that, if you'd like."**

**Startled, Brian looked over to see the elderly man in an ancient tee shirt and a pair of khakis.**

"**I'm Iver Reese, from down the shore. I take it you're Brian." Brian sat up as they shook hands. "Justin inside?" Brian nodded, still slightly chagrined by his opening remark. "I gather you two are having a rough patch, that right?"**

**What the fuck had Justin said to this old twat? "We're fine, thank you. What makes you ask?"**

"**He said that you never stop working and that you take your job more seriously than you do him."**

"**He said that?" Bullshit.**

"**Not in so many words." Iver sat on a stump placed for just that purpose. "I've known that boy a lot longer than you have and I know that he wouldn't be up here with you if you didn't mean a whole lot to him, but you don't pay him more attention than you pay to that shit"—he indicated the marketing report beside Brian—"And you'll lose him."**

"**I think I can handle it."**

"**You think like that and you're thinking wrong."**

**Brian was about to answer when they heard the door slam shut. "Iver! I thought I heard you down here." He handed out the cans of beer he'd brought with him, sitting next to Brian on the hammock and kissing his cheek. "Brian this is Iver. He's been up here since the forties. Iver this is my husband, Brian Kinney."**

"**We introduced ourselves a minute ago—you change your name to Kinney or do one of those stupid hyphenated things?"**

**Justin laughed, "No. Nothing like that. Is Em with you? I didn't see her when I was over."**

**This led to a long rundown of where his wife was, how the children and grandchildren were and that the family dog had arthritis. They then moved on to a number of Justin's relatives Brian had never heard of. After about half an hour of this, he got up, took his report and headed up to the house.**

"**He always like that?"**

"**He's got a lot on his mind right now." Justin swung his legs up on the hammock, lying down. "We did a lot today, went out in the boat, I showed him some things."**

"**You keep him headed in that direction. He's the kind who needs to work, but you show him the other side, too." Justin almost burst out laughing, Brian knew all about the other side—Woody's, Babylon, drugs, drinking. You name it; he'd been there. Right now he was focused on work, that was all. It would lighten up in a while.**

"**He'll be alright."**

"...**Justin, this is none of my business, but he's your first real love, isn't he?"**

"**Iver?"**

"**I know you and when you get your teeth in something you're a bulldog. You won't let go." Justin had an idea what was coming here. "If the time ever comes when you're unhappy more than you're happy. You think about what you're doing."**

**Justin gave him a hard look, the one he'd learned from Brian. It didn't work as well with his blue eyes, though and Iver knew him too well. "Are you telling me to get a divorce? We've only been married six fucking months."**

"**Calm down. I'm not telling you anything of the sort. I'm saying to keep your eyes and your options open."**

**Justin finished off what was left of his beer. "You don't like him."**

"**I don't know him, but I worry about you. You take care of yourself." They could faintly hear a bell clanging from down the way. "That's dinner. You try to get him to have some fun."**

**Seeing that Iver was gone, Brian came back outside, joining Justin back in the hammock.**

**Justin took his hand, lacing their fingers. "Hey, you want to go into town for dinner?"**

"...**There's a place to eat there?"**

"**There's a diner. It's not bad. I mean, unless you'd rather stay here. I think I saw that there's a movie playing, too."**

"**What? Birth of a Nation?"**

"**Fuck you." Brian pulled him down, wrapping his arms around him and holding him, his mouth nuzzling the side of his neck.**

"**I know an old joke."**

"**Oh?"**

"**There's this guy and he says to his friend that he wants to make love in the worst way. So his friend says..."**

"**Standing up in a canoe. I think I heard that in about fifth grade."**

"**No, asshole. 'In a hammock'."**

**Brian looked up at him as though he was considering the possibility. Just as Justin was expecting Brian to start removing his clothing, or at the very least start groping around beneath the fabric, he stopped.**

"**Brian?"**

"**Are you out of your fucking mind? Even if we don't fall out and break some fucking bone, there are mosquitoes, asshole." He started to sit up, obviously intending to leave, go back to the house.**

"**Since when did you become a Goddamned princess? I thought you liked outdoor sex."**

"**I'm from the suburbs. Outdoor sex to me is leaving the window open." Brian pulled him up, dragging him into the house.**

"**What the fuck are you going to do when Gus wants to go camping?"**

"**Are you kidding? The munchers love that shit. They'll be great at it." They'd gotten as far as the living room.**

"**Brian, You ever do it in front of a fireplace?"**

"**Not with you." Justin hit him in the ribs. "OK, there was that time last winter up in Vermont. There was this blond and—shit—he was hot, what could I do?"**

"**Asshole."**

**They built up the fire. Even though it was summer, the evenings could still be cool and it felt pretty good—well not as good as having Brian cum inside of him, not as good as wrapping his arms and his legs around that long body and feel it moving on top of him, and not as good as hearing the sounds Brian made only when they were together. There had been enough others for Justin to know even if he had no other reason to think so—he knew that it was different with him for Brian. He knew that, just as it was different for him with Brian than it had been with anyone else.**

**Ethan—well, Ethan hadn't ever—he couldn't really—there was nothing he did that made Justin forget himself. Even when he was cumming with Ethan, he was fully conscious of what was happening. With Brian, he'd lose track. With Ethan he was aware of how he looked, of the image he wanted to project. With Brian he was himself.**

**God that felt good.**

**They were lying together afterwards. The fire had died down and they had taken pillows off the couch to rest against. Dinner was simple cheese and crackers and a bottle of wine.**

"**Do you really want to start your own agency? Can we afford that?"**

"**I'm fine."**

"**Don't give me that crap. It'll cost a shitload of money in startup costs. You'll have to rent a space, you'll have to pay Cynthia, get all the graphics equipment, hire a staff, do all the initial printing—all the letterheads, mailings, all that shit. It'll cost a fortune."**

"**I've thought it through. I can do this." He poured them both more wine.**

"**What if Vance insists on a no competition clause of you leaving?"**

"**He has one already in place. It was a condition of his agreeing to my being a partner."**

"**Jesus, Brian, that stops you dead."**

**He sliced off another piece of cheese, placing it between his own lips and transferring it to Justin's. "It only stops me from setting up shop within one hundred miles of Pittsburgh."**

**Justin turned and looked him full in the face, lit only by the fire. "So where the fuck do you plan to move and are you expecting me to just fucking pick up and follow you like some Goddamned puppy?"**

"**I'm thinking that I might go to San Francisco to start and then, after I'm established, I'll either move or open a second office in New York."**

"**Jesus, Brian. If I hadn't asked, when were you going to mention this to me?"**

**Brian leaned back on both elbows. "I wanted to wait until I saw if it was feasible. I have to know if the clients will move with me, until I now that, I won't know if I can do this."**

"...**Even if you do, your clients are in Pittsburgh. The steel companies? Brown is just in Chicago, that's a lot closer than to Pittsburgh than the west coast. What are you thinking?"**

**This was not the way he'd pictured this going. "Justin, it's not like I was going to just present it to you like David did with Mikey. We'll talk about it. I know you have your family and school here."**

**Goddamn Brian. He always did shit like this. He wanted to open his own place, so he was getting all his fucking ducks in a row. He'd probably already even called a realtor to find someplace appropriate for them to live in San Francisco. There'd be a huge amount of space and there'd be a studio for him and he'd probably even looked at what art schools were there. Shit. Cynthia would have called and gotten catalogues from them by now.**

**Shit. This was the way it was shaping up. Brian made the decisions, made the money, made the contacts, made him cum whenever he wanted and he was the frigging housewife—like Michael had become for David and later Ben.**

**Brian was older; Brian was more experienced, Brian was—Brian.**

**He was just Brian's twat.**

**He looked at Brian, lost in though for a few seconds then moved over to him, kissing him roughly, aggressively. Brian responded, merely thinking that the victory was too easy and that there would be more before this was settled. He knew that, this was Justin he was dealing with. It was rarely this easy. They made love three more times that night, once more by the fire and then twice in bed. The next morning, after sleeping late, they made love again.**

**The rest of the trip Justin was, to all appearances, himself, but something had changed in him that night. To call it an epiphany was pretentious, but that's what it was. He understood some things now that he hadn't before and he understood now that he had to set his own limits as to what he would accept rather than merely follow behind Brian.**

**Brian loved him. That was beyond doubt, just as he loved Brian.**

**Did Brian consider him his equal? Well, yes, in fact in some areas he did. He was smart and he could hold his own socially better than Brian could. He was almost Brian's equal in bed. He'd had the best as a teacher.**

**It was the areas where Brian didn't even think to consult him that were the problem.**

**Brian made the money and, although generous and he had certainly never made an issue of it, he made the money. Neither of them really believed, whatever they might say, that Justin would ever come close to his income.**

**Money was power.**

**No, Brian didn't ever use it as such or threaten with it—but Justin knew that the fact was that he was dependent on his husband. Being dependant infantilized him. He would change this as soon as possible. He would concentrate on graphic design instead of fine art. He would be come employable.**

**Yes, he knew that this was important to Brian, this move for independence and he would support it as far as he could—without hurting himself.**

**He and Brian would finish the vacation. Brian had promised to minimize the work. When they got home they may not know yet if Brian could make a break from Vanguard, but they would know more than they did now. At the very least, Brian wanted a promotion to Senior Partner and a substantial raise.**

**They would know about the move or the promotion in a couple of months after Brian finished his maneuvering.**

**Until then, they still had a week more here at the house. Justin would show him the back meadow where they could make love, they could go into town for fireworks to bring back to Molly, they could have dinner with Iver and Em, and they would relax.**

**The rest of the trip would be fine. They would relax rest up.**

**The next couple of months would be fucking interesting, though.**


	7. July

**First Year**

**July**

**The cookout was scheduled to start at three and Justin and Brian had, with varying degrees of enthusiasm, agreed to help. The day before Justin had stopped by Jennifer's condo to make sure the grill was working only to be infuriated to learn that his father had claimed it in the divorce. "He doesn't even like stuff cooked on a fucking grill!"**

**His mother had just shrugged—she'd been concerned about bigger matters at the time and hadn't paid any attention.**

**When Brian heard the story, he had looked at Justin, pronounced Craig an asshole, yet again, and said not to worry about it.**

**The next morning Jen called the loft at eight AM, thanking Brian and saying she couldn't possibly accept it. Being Brian, he wouldn't take 'no' for an answer and so the new top of the line grill was allowed to be unloaded from the delivery truck and installed. In half an hour it was ready to go.**

**An hour and a half after that, the two men arrived with several bags of groceries for the party—a bag of various meats, steak, chicken, burgers and hot dogs—another bag of salads and a third one of condiments and rolls. They left the soda and beer to Jen to provide. Deb and Em would bring the desserts. The others could be counted on to bring plates of this and that. Lindsay was always good for some shrimp salad.**

**They were expecting the usual family members along with a few of Molly's friends and a couple of the neighbors. A few of the old friends from before the divorce might stop by, too, but they seemed to view Jen as a threat since she was now single.**

**That hurt Justin, knowing that his mother was seen as femme fatale by some of her old friends, but shit, she was still beautiful and she was smart and strong and he was lucky she was his mother. She'd gotten the short end of things and he wished, with all his heart that he could do something to help her, but Brian insisted that everyone was responsible for their own pain and their own problems. Well, yes, OK he was usually right, but sometimes you just get the shaft—like when he'd been bashed.**

**And then his fucking father had taken up with his latest girlfriend, some blonde piece of arm candy he could never remember the name of, but always thought of as 'Bambi'. That time they had all ended up in the same restaurant by accident he could have punched Craig after he saw the look on his Mom's face. She had that look when she knew that if anyone said anything or touched her arm or something, she'd cry. Shit, it was even her fucking birthday.**

**Luckily no one did set her off, but Justin had gone over to tell his father exactly what he thought and it was only Brian taking his arm that had stopped a full out scream fest right by the salad bar.**

**Of course, the fact that it was Brian who ended up as peacemaker didn't go all that far to calm Craig, but there you go. His parting shot had been something about how he wasn't surprised to see that the damn perv had taken his place in the family and could he expect an announcement of Molly's engagement to Brian's brother—or sister—anytime soon? There had also been some crack that at least he knew Molly would probably be safe from the man himself, so that was at least some relief.**

**Brian had, for once, refused to engage and the incident was defused, if not forgotten.**

**The longer this shit went on, the more Justin wondered if his father had always been this big a prick or had it happened since the whole gay/marriage break up/bashing happened? It was disconcerting to think that he'd been living with this all his life and had simply never noticed and he didn't like what it said about his mother, either.**

**Well, screw it. Water under the bridge and all that.**

**He went back to the kitchen to get the bags of ice for the big washtub they always used for drinks. He found them, filled the tub and started loading in the drinks. Then he felt the hands on his waist and the mouth on the back of his neck. He was being held too tightly to turn around, but he could feel Brian starting to really go to town with his tongue on his neck and his hands were coming up to begin on his nipples and he just hoped that his mother or Molly weren't watching out of one of the windows.**

"**Brian..."**

"**Hmmmm?"**

"**The others will be here in like two minutes."**

"**You give a shit?"**

"**My Mom will be pissed if the guests arrive and you're humping me by the hammock."**

"**I can hump you up in your old room if you'd prefer."**

"**You can hump me when we get home."**

**His fingers still busy on Justin's breasts, his tongue and lips still on his neck, Justin knew that if he tried to stand up it would be obvious how much he wanted to finish what Brian had started.**

**Shit.**

"**Justin?" Christ. His mother was calling him. "Justin? Are you in the garage? I need the grill set."**

**Brian called into the kitchen. "There's a new one that came with the new grill, Jennifer."**

"**OK. The downstairs bathroom. Now." Justin's breath was getting faster and a lot shallower.**

**Brian's reply was a leer coupled with a dirty laugh. "You're such a princess."**

"**Shit, Brian." He was whispering, panicked. "I can't fucking walk."**

"**I take pride in my work."**

"**Goddamnit, Brian. It's not funny. My mother will be here any second."**

**Brian was openly laughing now. "She's seen a boner before."**

"**Jesus. Brian."**

**Still laughing, Brian picked him up in his arms, carrying him, protesting, into the house, past Molly and her friends who laughed as they walked by into the bathroom, the door firmly closing and audibly locking.**

**The two men made quick work of one another, Justin's jeans were pulled down, Brian was lubed, they forego the condom, as they had the last few months. Leaning against the sink, Brian behind, the penetration was quick, the thrusting driven by passion and the climaxes powerful. Grasping one another, breathing in gulps of air, Brian looked at the mess Justin had made of Jennifer's clean mirror.**

"**Is there any Windex in here?" They both began laughing. Yes, under the sink, there it was.**

**Ten minutes later, both the bathroom and the two men were presentable. They walked out to the kitchen to the loud and embarrassed giggles of four adolescent girls. There was nothing for it—they joined in.**

"**Jesus, Molly, you little shit—were you listening?"**

**Barely able to speak—"Like I've never heard you two before."**

"**Your turn will come."**

"**God, Brian—you're the one who just came!"**

**Jennifer opened the glass door from the small patio. "What's so funny? Did I miss something?"**

"**Molly was just saying she was glad that we could come today. Do you need help with anything else, Mom?"**

**Realizing immediately what she had walked in on, she gave Brian a dirty look. The adult was supposed to know better than that, for the love of God. "How about making sure that all the plates and silverware is out and that we have enough glasses."**

**The two men wandered out to check while the girls disappeared upstairs to laugh and speculate some more.**

**Within half an hour all the guests had arrived, Debbie had a huge salad and a couple of pies, Vic had baked a cake and the girls had brought cupcakes, explaining that they were Gus' favorite and that he had helped ice them. He instantly grabbed one, solemnly and carefully handing it to Brian insisting, "Dada, eat."**

**Sighing at the carbs and white sugar, Brian obliged, praising his efforts and thanking him. From then on til everyone left, the child wouldn't be separated from Brian's lap.**

"**Jesus, Brian. If someone had told me ten years ago that you'd spend a family picnic at your mother-in-laws house, holding your sleeping baby and actually let him stuff a piece of junk food in your mouth, I'd have said they were full of shit."**

"**You just never saw the softer side of me, that's all."**

"**I've seen every side of you at there is, and that's the one I never thought would see daylight." She gave his cheek a kiss. "I'm proud of you, kiddo." She looked over to where Molly and her friends were still kidding Justin about the bathroom encounter. "You two doing OK?"**

"**Yes, we're fine."**

"**Don't you try to bullshit me, asshole. I've seen the look on his face the last couple of months when he thinks no one's looking. What the fuck's the problem?"**

**Shit. This had started out to be a nice day and here we go again. "You're always looking for Goddamned problems, Deb. I told you, we're fine." He was speaking conversationally. He and Deb had known each other too long to buy into one another's dramatics.**

"**You're a fucking liar, but I'm letting it go for now, but I'm telling you—if he doesn't start sunshining pretty damn soon, we're going to have this conversation again and next time I won't drop it."**

"**Oh, good. Something to look forward to."**

**A few hours later the food was largely eaten, the fireworks, visible over the trees were oohed and aahed over, Gus having watched from Brian's arms with Justin sitting beside them and most of the mess had been cleaned up.**

**It was on the way home that the argument began.**

**Brian brought up an incident that had happened earlier in the day, before the others had arrived but after the bathroom sex.**

**As Justin had been outside looking at the grill, he muttered something under his breath.**

"**What did you say?"**

"**When? What re you talking about?"**

"**That conversation that was interrupted when Michael and Ben arrived."**

"**I said that if you want to show up my father, you could have done it for less than three thousand dollars."**

"**The grill? You know I don't buy crap."**

"**Yes, the grill and that's bullshit. You just want to be one up on him. The old grill was from the Big Q and cost like three hundred dollars."**

"**This one is better."**

"**So what? They both cook fucking hamburgers."**

"**And this one does it better and will do it for longer."**

"**You just won't let up, will you?"**

**They were pulling onto Tremont, almost at Brian's regular parking space. "You want to tell me what crawled up your butt?"**

"**You and your Goddamned money. You throw it at people."**

"**I like to live well and I'm generous to the people I care about."**

"**You try to fucking buy people."**

"**You're full of shit."**

"**Because I see what you're doing?"**

"**I never heard you complain about your new computer or the software or the clothes and food and shit I bring home." The car was at the curb, the motor off. They both got out; both slammed the doors and went inside without saying anything until they got upstairs.**

"**I fucking hate that you have all the money. I feel like your fucking housewife twat."**

**They ended up in the bedroom, standing on opposite side of the bed.**

"**I never asked you to do the laundry and the cooking and all that crap. We have a fucking cleaning lady twice a week. She'll do laundry. You don't have to do that shit."**

"**And then I feel like I don't contribute anything. Don't you fucking get it? I'm not your Goddamned little woman and that's how I feel. You have all the money and you call all the Goddamned shots. You have your fucking job and your fucking car and your fucking Armani everything and I'm little Justin with his little drawings. Goddamnit."**

"**That's a simple fact right now. You know that. You're a student, I'm a decade past that. Of course I have the money. In a couple of years when you get a real job, you'll have ..."**

"**I'll have what? A tenth of what you're making? Shit—by the time I have a real paycheck, you'll be a fucking agency president and I'll be in some fucking entry level position at some damn place." He had pulled off his tee shirt. "Screw this. I need a shower." The door banging shut was a good hint to Brian that there wouldn't be any shower sex just yet.**

**He went down to the kitchen, got himself a beer and ended up sitting on the couch while he waited for Justin to finish with his shower and his tantrum.**

**OK, fine, he knew it was all understandable. Justin was twenty, He wanted to be independent and all of that, but Brian did make the money. He did pay for the loft and the food and their clothes and Justin's tuition and school supplies and all of that. Justin's diner tips barely kept him in lunch money and cigarettes.**

**And, yeah—he was probably right. By the time he had a real job, Brian might well be head of his own place. He sure as Hell was busting his hump to get there.**

**Shit.**

**And, yeah, he could—as much as he hated to admit it—see this from Justin's side.**

**This wasn't all that different from Mikey and Doctor Dave.**

**Shit. Like he ever thought that would cross the street and hit him in the ass.**

**David had decided where they would live, what car Mikey would drive, where they ate, who their friends were, where they went on vacation, what Mikey would wear.**

**He and Justin lived in his loft; he paid the bills, bought the food, paid for tuition and the trip to Vermont. He paid for their wedding and the wedding rings. He paid for Christmas and birthday presents. He usually decided what position they would use for that night's or mornings sex. Brian's friends were the ones they spent the most time with.**

**He did set the pace of their lives and he had assumed (much as he didn't like to acknowledge what this said about him) that when—if—his own agency were ready, Justin would pick up and follow him to wherever the fuck he ended up.**

**It hadn't really occurred to him that it would be a problem.**

**He hadn't thought that it would be a problem.**

**He simply hadn't thought.**

**He was another David. Fuck me.**

**The water stopped, the door opened and Justin appeared at the top of the stairs with a towel wrapped around his waist.**

"**Come here." He came down, sitting on the far end of the couch, feet up, arms around his knees.**

**Brian reached out, taking his hand. "So, what are we going to do about this? What would make it better?"**

**Justin didn't say anything.**

"**Justin, talk to me. Do you want to stay here with me?"**

"**Yes."**

"**You know that I'll probably always make more money than you do. We work in different jobs. What I do pays better than what you do. That's just a fact."**

"**I know."**

**Justin was looking down in his lap, avoiding Brian's eyes.**

"**Are you that unhappy?" Brian rubbed his fingers. "I thought—I knew that there were some things, but are you that unhappy?"**

"**I want us to be equal and we're not. I know about the money and it only matters because it gives you the power..."**

"**It doesn't. It allows us to do some of the things we ..."**

"**Fucking can it. It's like with my parents. My Mom thought that they were partners and then he walked out and she was screwed. I don't want to be in the position she allowed herself to be in."**

"**I've already put your name on the deed for the loft. You know you're on almost all my accounts. You're the one named on my insurance, along with Gus."**

**Justin looked up at him, startled. He hadn't known about the loft or the insurance. Shit.**

"**Do you want to stay?" Brian looked as scared as he had the day he had told him about the bashing, afraid that he would lose him all over again.**

"**Yes."**

"**What are we going to do?"**

"**I don't know."**

"**But we'll work on it?"**

"**Yes."**

"**Justin?"**

**He looked up again. Brian pulled him into an embrace, holding him.**

"**Brian, are we going to be alright?"**

**He didn't answer, he just tightened his grip.**


	8. August

**First Year**

**August**

"**Christ, Brian, when the fuck did they say the air conditioning would be fixed?"**

"**They didn't say. They said that they're backed up and that three of their techs are on vacation."**

"**Shit. It's hotter than a crotch in here and the TV said the heat wave was expected to continue forfuckingever."**

**Despite himself, Brian smiled. "The language you young people use these days."**

**Justin had just taken his second cool shower in less than an hour. It had been too hot to sleep or do anything else last night. They were both cranky. "There must be somewhere we can go to cool off."**

"**A movie?"**

"**Maybe."**

"**I could call Vance, he has a pool."**

"**God." He wandered back up to the bedroom to get some clothes on.**

"**Alright, screw this." Brian, wearing nothing but a pair of workout shorts and with the sweat dripping off him, picked up the phone. "Yeah, its Brian...There's a change of plans. We're coming with you...Because the air conditioning is out and your son is making me insane...Good. We can be packed in fifteen minutes...I'll have us there in less than an hour."**

**Getting up he joined Justin upstairs and began to pull out a couple of suitcases. "Get packed."**

"**Where the fuck are we going?"**

"**To Canada with your mother and your sister."**

**Justin almost did a double take. "Are you shitting me? When?"**

"**Now. Get packed. We're outta here inside of ten minutes."**

**Forty-five minutes they were parking in Jen's space at the condo. The corvette would stay here, locked in her garage while they were gone for ten days. Her car was packed and she and Molly, along with Molly's friend Laurie, were waiting on the walk. Within five more minutes they had the men's two suitcases loaded into the trunk, everyone was in the car and they were pulling out of the driveway, Brian driving.**

"**This is going to be so awesome, I was hoping that you guys would come with us, but then when you went up a couple of months ago, I thought that would be it."**

"**Molly, are you going to talk the entire trip?"**

"**Like you ever shut up. Mom? Which bedroom do Laurie and I get?"**

"**I'm not sure, sweetie, one of the side ones, I guess."**

"**Could we have the front one?"**

**Jen was starting to think this drive would be the longest of her life and they weren't out of Pittsburgh yet. "I thought I'd give that one to your brother and Brian."**

"**Mom?" This time it was Justin. "I thought it would be better if Brian and I used the guest house this time."**

**Good point, with two adolescent girls along. "That might be best, honey. I think you're right." It was a small one-room building, maybe twelve by fifteen with a front porch. It stood about thirty feet from the main house. It had a bed, a small sink, a curtained off closet and a bureau. Period. On the other hand, it didn't have his sister in the next room or his mother downstairs.**

**The trip took eight hours, pretty good time, actually, but with Brian driving a good part of the way, they went fast. Unlike him, Jen was a believer in speed limits.**

"**How did you get time off, Brian? Isn't this a busy time for you? I thought that all the Christmas ads would be in production by now."**

"**The Christmas ads were done a month ago. I have a lot of vacation time saved up and it was ninety-seven degrees in the loft at eight this morning, with all of the windows open. I called my partner and told him I'd be back in time for Labor Day."**

"**Must be nice."**

**Justin tapped his shoulder from the back seat. "You brought your laptop, didn't you? I thought I saw you put it in your bag."**

"**You know I did. I may be able to get away, but I can't fall off the fucking planet."**

"...**Wouldn't want the world to stop turning, now, would we?"**

**Brian was hot and stiff and knew that Vance was pissed at his last minute departure without warning. He wasn't in the mood for another round of this shit. "Fuck off. I don't see you complaining about having all your Goddamned bills paid."**

"**Are you going to start that again?"**

"**Are you?"**

**The voltage of the exchange startled the women into silence and an awkward pall dropped over the car, the two girls looking at one another and Jen staring stonily ahead. After about ten strained miles of this, Brian mumbled a "Sorry" in Jennifer's direction. She managed a small smile in return. In the back Justin quietly came up with a "Sorry, Mom." She nodded. Molly looked at her brother and he gave her a small shrug. They had both heard their parents have the same kind of quick, sharp arguments. They had both hated it.**

**At the next driver change, Justin was behind the wheel, Brian in the passenger seat because of his long legs. After an hour and a half, Jennifer noticed that they were holding hands. At the lunch stop, she noticed that Brian had leaned over to kiss him when the back seat was emptying. Whatever had caused the blowup seemed to have passed.**

**Good.**

**It was twenty degrees cooler when they got to the lake than when they had left home.**

**By six thirty they were in the water taxi going over to the house, the local's at the marina greeting Jennifer and Molly like long lost friends. As they approached the house, they noticed that lights were on over at the Wedding Cake, so they wouldn't be alone on the shore—good. Iver and Reese were always good for a nice dinner visit or a game of scrabble or something. They would make a nice break after a few days.**

**They all pretty much knew the drill, or could figure it out. Suitcases were taken to various bedrooms, groceries were put in the pantry off the kitchen, and clean sheets were put on the beds. Dinner was a simple affair of sandwiches, made while the two men did things like turn on the hot water and open windows to air the place out. By the time everything was finished and the dishes washed, it was dark, although the full moon gave light.**

**The men, with a look at one another, stood up and went out the front door, holding hands. Jennifer watched as they went down to sit on the front edge of the dock, Brian smoking a cigarette, Justin sitting beside him, both of them with their bare feet in the water. They were talking quietly and she could hear occasional laughter.**

**She knew that they were having some problems adjusting to actually being married, but she would rather not get involved if she could avoid it. She loved Justin, of course, and she had grown fond of Brian, despite his moments when she wanted to strangle him. She wasn't all that sure they really belonged together forever, but right now it was obvious that when they were apart they were miserable—despite whatever was wrong between them.**

**Upstairs, Molly and Laurie were watching the same thing outside that Jennifer was. They had turned their room light out so they could spy in private. They had even considered sneaking down but decided that it would be easier to just listen at their windows in the guesthouse either some night or morning.**

"**Does it bother you that your brother is gay? It must be pretty weird to see him making out with Brian all the time."**

"**Yeah—it's weird, but you get used to it. It's not really that big a deal. One time they didn't know I was home and I heard them upstairs, though. God, it was gross."**

"**God. What did it sound like?" They were both lying on the double bed.**

"**You ever hear your parents? Like that."**

"**Did your parents freak?"**

"**Big time. My Dad is still all flipped out about it. I don't think he ever talks to Justin anymore and he really, really hates Brian." Molly turned over onto her back. "That's what broke up my parents marriage. They said it was a lot of other shit too, but this was the big thing. My Mom's sort of OK with Justin being gay and Dad is so totally not OK with it. He even tried to beat Brian up and he wrecked his car and stuff."**

"**Your Dad must have really had a fit when he heard they were getting married."**

"**I heard Mom telling someone that Dad has even cut Justin out of his will and he won't pay for his college or anything. For his last birthday he didn't even send him card or anything."**

"**That's sort of shitty."**

"**Yeah. Justin was really hurt. I heard that Brian went over to Dad's office and yelled at him so Dad took Justin out to dinner, but he still wouldn't invite Brian. Justin was major pissed."**

"**God. How do you look at them like at breakfast or something when you know what they've been doing all night?"**

"**You'll find out tomorrow."**

"**Ewww. Are they like really married?"**

"**Yeah. They have a license and everything. It's real."**

"**What's Brian like? He's cute and all, but he's like as old as my Dad."**

"**God, don't let him hear you say shit like that. He'll kill you—or Justin will. Just totally don't go there—and don't mention that Brian's like twelve years older than my brother, either. They both hate it."**

"**So is he an asshole? He was pretty snarky to Justin in the car."**

"**He's pretty nice usually, but he and Justin have these fights and then he gets super nasty. Just like leave when that happens."**

"**God, this trip is going to be so weird."**

"**We've got the boat. We can just ditch them."**

**Later that night the two girls snuck down the stairs, being careful of the noisy tread, and stood outside the open window of the guest house. Damn. The curtains were closed so they couldn't see, but they could hear the old bedsprings squeaking and grunts and groaning coming from inside. They could make out Justin's voice, "Harder...harder...God, Brian...faster...now..." followed by more groaning. There were sounds like sucking and skin slapping against skin. The bed squeaking got faster and they heard Brian's voice joining in, no real words, just grunting...God, it was so gross and the two girls had to put their hands over their mouths to not laugh out loud. Finally, after like maybe ten minutes, they heard they two men's voices get louder and they seemed like they were gasping for breath and the springs were sounding like they might break and then the two of them sort of shouted in a weird strangled, gasping way and then it sounded like they just kind of collapsed on the bed. Then there was some really quiet happy sounding laughter and kissing sounds while they caught their breath and Molly and her friend backed away as quietly as they could.**

**When they were back up in their own room Molly said, "See? I told you, they sound like your parents."**

"**Yeah, if both of my parents were guys." That was it. They both were lost to giggles.**

**The next morning they were sitting at the dining room table eating with Jennifer when Brian came in, got himself some coffee and poured batter on the grill to make his own breakfast. She called through, asking if he needed help, he didn't.**

**About five minutes later he carried a plate of pancakes and a couple of coffee mugs in, setting them down. He put half of the pancakes on another plate. "Justin will be here in a minute."**

"**You two sleep alright out there?"**

**The girls burst into uncontrolled giggles, again. Brian looked at them as he answered. "Fine, thanks, but we thought we heard a couple of animals walking around outside. Whatever they were made a lot of noise."**

"**Good morning." Justin kissed his mother's cheek, sitting next to his husband. "Tonight we'll leave the curtains open to get more of a breeze." He was smiling his sunshine smile at Molly.**

"**I'll bring a camera."**

"**You won't be the first who wanted to."**

**Jennifer stared them into silence. "What plans do you all have for the day?"**

**Molly and Laurie were going to take the little boat exploring, Justin was going to sketch and Brian had some work to do on the laptop. Jen planned to curl up with a book down on the dock. A quiet day. About half an hour later they had all split to their various pursuits, Brian and Justin kissing goodbye as he walked out with his drawing things.**

**After an hour or so, Jen went back up to the house from the lake to get something to drink and stopped in the dining room when she saw Brian.**

"**Am I interrupting?"**

"**No, I was just finished." He closed the laptop. He saw the look on her face. "Something on your mind?"**

**She started with small talk. "I thought that I'd ask Iver and his wife over for dinner tomorrow. Didn't you meet them when you two were up?"**

"**I met him, she was away somewhere."**

**She nodded with a smile and took the chair catty-cornered from him. She might as well just come out and just say it. "Are you and Justin having problems?"**

"**Why do you ask?" She knew he wouldn't give her a simple answer.**

"**From the look on Justin's face and Debbie has been talking to me."**

**Of course she had. He smiled without humor. Shit. This was the last thing he wanted to get into, but she was Justin's fucking mother and he knew when they came up here that this conversation was bound to happen. Might as well get it over with.**

"**We'll be fine. There are some adjustments for both of us, but we're alright."**

"**What sort of adjustments? Is it serious, are you seeing anyone, getting help?"**

**He gave her one of his stonewall looks. She knew he resented her intruding on his personal life, but Justin was her son, so tough. She stared back at him.**

**What a pain in the ass. Fucking fine. "No, we're not seeing anyone. Justin resents that I make all the money. He feels that it makes him inferior and an unequal partner."**

"**Do you treat him that way?"**

"**Fuck no." He relented, continuing in a softer tone of voice. "He says that he doesn't contribute enough and that if we were to divorce, he might be left in the same position..."**

"**As I was when Craig left."**

"**Yes, but it won't happen. Even if we were to spilt, he knows that I wouldn't allow him to go through that."**

**Her face hardened. "Make sure that it doesn't happen." She got up, about to go back down to the dock and her book when she turned back. "I want to ask you something and I want an honest answer."**

**He nodded. What fucking now?**

"**Are you faithful to him? I want to know—if you're cheating on him, you'll break his heart and I won't...I can't let that...I'll do whatever it takes so that he's not hurt."**

**Goddamnit. Justin had asked him the same thing. He was tired of the same fucking question. "He's the only man I've fucked since before Vermont."**

"**Keep it that way." She went back down to the dock.**

**Fuck.**

**An hour later Brian was walking through the back meadow, trying to get his thoughts together. He was pissed at Jennifer for butting in and he resented that she and Debbie had been talking about them, obviously having come to the conclusion that he was a shit and that Justin would be getting shafted sometime soon. He was always the bad guy, always the heartless asshole. Damnit—he wasn't the one who had been fiddling around, now, was he? He was still stewing about it all when he came upon Justin sitting in the long grass, sketching a grove of trees.**

**He stood for a long few minutes, watching, caught by the wonder, actually marveling at the scene, caught by the beauty of the perfect setting and the perfect young man in the middle of it.**

**It was an ideal day and the sunlight was shafting through the trees. It was warm but not hot and the air was clean. The trees and the woods held a thousand shades of green and brown and yellow overhung with a cloudless blue sky. Justin sat in a patch of sunlight, barely moving, concentrating on his drawing.**

**His hand was recovering, his ability returning to where it had been and was becoming more sophisticated, more mature. Certainly he'd known that the youngster was good, but Brian was beginning to realize that he could well be a major talent, one who would stand out and be recognized. There could be a time when Brian would be the one in the shadows, walking behind.**

**Shit—fuck.**

**There it was in a nutshell—walking behind, competition. It was the problem and they were both guilty of it. Brian because he was a fucking Alpha, always had to be on top and Justin because he was, too and hadn't been old enough, mature enough, experienced enough to understand.**

**He could deal with this, he could fix this, and he knew what to do. He could start as soon as he got back to the house and the damn phone.**

**He walked across the small meadow; purposely making some noise as he went so Justin wouldn't be startled.**

"**Hey."**

"**Hey." He sat on his heels beside Justin, kissing him then turning his attention to the sketchbook he was holding. He had captured the feel of the meadow; it was there on the page in front of him—the warmth, the summer, the coolness of the glade, the beauty and the peace. It was perfect. "This is good."**

**Justin smiled, a little unsure. "You think? I was having trouble with the shadows there, but I thought..."**

"**It's good." He was rewarded with the smile.**

"**Thank you for clearing things so we could come back up here." Brian smiled back at him, one of his real smiles.**

**Justin put his hand up to Brian's neck, pulling him down for a series of real kisses, deep and gentle at the same time, almost languid. Brian felt him pulling him off balance and onto the grass, rolling his hips so that he came to rest on top with Justin looking up at him. His hands slid under Brian's tee, stroking the skin and running lightly, gently up and down his spine and the long muscles. After a few minutes of this he stopped, his hands just resting, holding Brian in place.**

**Brian was still nuzzling his neck when he paused to ask, "Do you want to fuck?"**

"**I'd rather make love."**

"**Alright, would you like to?"**

**Justin's attention shifted back—he had been looking at the beauty of the small glen, enjoying simply being there with his husband. "Yes, in a while. There's no hurry."**


	9. September

**First Year**

**September**

**They were lying on the big platform bed, the new sheets, the dark red ones were on for the first time and the two of them were resting after the evenings first round of love making. It was early, maybe ten thirty; there was plenty of time for—whatever.**

**The trip up to Canada had gone well after the conversation with Jennifer that she and Brian had and things relaxed considerably afterwards. He did tend to take his cel phone out on the dock and have long mysterious conversations with God knows who, but Justin knew he was still conducting some business while they were on vacation, so he left him alone.**

**The two girls would blush and giggle whenever the two men would so much as hold hands, so they would make a joking show of sprawling on top of one another on the couch or kiss noisily between dinner and dessert.**

**The day they had music playing and Brian swept Laurie up into his arms for a dance, kissing her cheek and holding her chastely, but firmly about the waist had brought on a fit of blushes that continued whenever she looked at him. She, too, had fallen under the Irish charm he wielded with such efficiency when he chose.**

**Getting up for a moment, Brian walked down to the kitchen, returning with two bowls, one larger than the other, both of which had been warming to room temperature on the granite counter.**

"**Lie down." Justin looked at him, but obeyed.**

"**Shit!" The sauce poured onto his stomach was still cool and smelled tangy.**

"**Quiet." Brian took something from the second bowl, ran whatever it was through the thick liquid he had just put in Justin's navel. "Open your mouth."**

**Lying flat, not knowing what he was about to swallow, Justin looked him a question but obeyed.**

"**Shrimp? Brian, you know I'm allergic to everything on the planet—you could have killed me, asshole."**

"**You put shrimp in the jambalaya, asshole. I knew you could eat it."**

**The snack continued, Brian finding new and creative places to scoop sauce from, Justin finding difficulty in not laughing so hard that the sauce would drip down his sides and stain the imported cotton he was lying on. The evening had another pause while the two of them hit the shower to remove the starting to dry and crust sauce from both of their bodies. "You know, sometimes I wonder what the neighbors think of you as a neighbor—between hundreds of tricks over the years..."**

"**Thousands"**

"**Excuse me—thousands of tricks over the years, the occasional orgy, loud parties, people coming and going—oh shut up—at all hours, Gus crying sometimes. I would think you being a sedate married man would be a major relief to them."**

"**I believe that they planned to send a gift basket to thank me...or you."**

**He smiled; they were quiet for a few minutes. "I got a letter today through the school. Take a look at this." Justin turned on the reading light on Brian's side of the bed, handing him a piece of paper he'd had on his nightstand.**

"**Dear Mr. Taylor, September 6th**

**It is with great pleasure that I have the privilege of asking if you would be interested in being one of a group of five young artists we hope to showcase in next month's "New Talent" series, The show is scheduled to run from Friday, October 3rd to Thursday, October 30th with set up being scheduled for the Wednesday and Thursday immediately prior to opening night.**

**We would like to hang eight pieces of your choice. It has been our experience that small to medium canvas' sell the best and we take 40 of all sales as a commission. You are responsible for the costs of transporting your work and for any insurance during transportation. We are, of course, fully covered for any piece of art while it is on our premises.**

**Over the last thirty-four years, our "New Talent" series has become a much looked forward to part of the fall gallery openings, generally garnering a fair amount of coverage, reviews and foot traffic and has, if I may say so, become something of a benchmark for both the new season and new careers as well.**

**Your work more than meets our standards and I confess to being quite excited at the prospect of being able to bring it to a wider audience.**

**I would greatly appreciate your prompt reply and look forward to meeting you in person in a few weeks.**

**Sincerely,**

**Fred Gormley**

**Shadyside Galleries**

**537 Madison Ave,**

**New York, NY 10087"**

"**God, Brian, I almost shit when I read this. This is like the most prestigious gallery for new artists in like the entire country and this is their major show of the year."**

"**You know you're good, now other people will clue in." He kissed Justin's hand, ran his fingers through his hair before pulling him down for another series of kisses. "I'm proud of you."**

**Justin looked at him, happiness radiating from him. "You've never said that before."**

"**Yeah, well, now I have." Brian went back down to the kitchen; Justin heard the fridge open, some glass clinking. He retuned carrying a bottle of champagne and two flutes.**

**The top popped, the wine was poured, the glasses touched. "Did you call this guy to accept?"**

"**I wanted to tell you first. I wasn't sure if the offer, the percentage and all that shit was fair."**

"**You twat. A lot of galleries take 50 and you covering the cost of transportation is standard. The offer is fine, this is an up and up place. You're not getting screwed."**

"**No, that was an hour ago."**

"**And an hour from now."**

"**And now."**

**The next morning Justin called Fred Gormley at the gallery, thanking him for his offer and formally accepting the invitation. The contracts would be sent to him that day. He was to sign and return them as soon as he could. When Justin asked the man how he had known that Justin even existed, he was told that they routinely sent out feelers to the major art schools and his name had come up, a request for slides of his work had been filled and the committee had been impressed.**

**Thanking the man, he hung up. Damn.**

"**Brian? I called, they're sending the contracts today, he said he was going to overnight them—will you take a look at them tomorrow? I can bring them to your office."**

"**Sure, no problem. I thought that we might go out to dinner to celebrate, sound good?"**

"**Great, where do you want to go?"**

"**It's your fucking accomplishment, you twat, you decide and make a reservation. I'll be home around six-thirty."**

**Just as he hung up the phone, Cynthia buzzed him. "Excuse me, Mr. Kinney, there's a Mr. Taylor here. He doesn't have an appointment, but he was hoping to see you. You do have that meeting at two."**

**Brian looked at his intercom. Cynthia never called him 'Mr. Kinney' and she knew damn well who fucking Craig Taylor was. Craig must be assholing again. Shit—and today had been going so well. Oh, and his two o'clock had been cancelled. She knew that, too.**

"**Send him in."**

"**Brian." He sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk. The office door was open.**

"**Craig, or should I say 'Dad'? To what do I owe the pleasure?" He leaned back in the big leather chair, his hands laced in front of him.**

"**Jennifer told me that you and Justin went up to Canada with her and Molly and one of her friends last month."**

**There seemed no point on commenting on a simple fact.**

"**She also told me that the two of you were practically—copulating in front of them all. I won't stand for that sort of shit. You've ruined Justin; you're to stay away from Molly. Do I make myself clear?"**

**He just looked at Craig, bored. "I'm a perv and a child molester who's destroyed your family and ruined the lives of everyone I've ever come in contact with. I think we've established that, now can we move on?"**

"**Don't pull your shit on me, Kinney. Jen told me that you and Justin are having problems already and that they're serious. If you had any decency in you, you'd end it with him and let him move on."**

"**So he can join the country club and take up golf?"**

"**Stay away from my daughter."**

"**Molly and I are friends. I give her soccer tips and that's as far as intimacy goes between us—she's not my type."**

"**Stay the fuck away from her."**

"**Like you're staying away from your son?"**

"**He's the one who refuses my calls—your influence, no doubt."**

"**I'm not his caller ID, Craig and the number you have is his private number. If he won't answer your calls, that's his decision."**

**Vance appeared in the doorway. "Brian I wanted to go over—excuse me, I didn't realize that you were busy."**

**Brian stood, Craig following his lead. "It's alright. Gardner Vance, this is Craig Taylor, my father-in-law. Craig, this is my partner, Gardner Vance." The two men exchanged nods, Craig slightly startled.**

"**When did you make partner?"**

**Vance answered, covering the fact that he found it odd Brian's own father-in-law wouldn't know. "Brian was made partner when I bought this company almost two years ago. Best decision I've made in a long time. I've met your son several times, Mr. Taylor, he's a remarkable young man."**

"...**Thank you."**

"**You wanted to see me about something, Gardner?"**

"**It can wait until you're finished."**

"**We are."**

"**Think about what I said, Brian."**

"**Call Justin at home later this evening if you want to talk to him. We have dinner plans, but we'll be there later."**

"**Yes, I will." Nodding at Vance again, he left.**

**Vance placed a couple of paste-ups on Brian's desk. "Family problems, Brian?"**

"**You've been married, Gardner. Did you ever have in-laws?"**

"**Say no more."**

**Justin had made reservations at Roma's, his favorite Italian restaurant and one Brian would usually avoid because of the calories and the carbs. He allowed himself the indulgence tonight.**

"**The Dean called me in to congratulate me on getting that gallery show. He said that I'm the first PIFA student to make their cut."**

"**Have you decided which paintings you're going to show?"**

**Justin was just chewing his chicken parm. "I was going to ask Lindsay to help me decide. She knows what sort of shit they like." He took a drink of the wine. "I have to get a crate made to ship them to New York."**

"**You could, or we could borrow the munchers wagon and drive them there ourselves. That might be a safer way to move them."**

**He nodded, thinking it over. "You're right, that would be better—do you think they'll mind?"**

"**Lindsay would cream for a chance to drive the corvette."**

"**I'll have to get them framed, too."**

"**The school should be able to help you with that sort of shit, either that or Lindsay's gallery will know where to take them."**

**Justin had a look about him that Brian couldn't place, though it looked familiar.**

"**Bri?"**

**He never called him by his nickname; Justin always called him 'Brian'. "What?"**

"**It feels like this is going to be really good—the show. It's like a first step, you know?"**

**Brian reached across, brushed his fingers against his hand. "It is a big step. It's your first New York show. You're going to do great."**

**He caught Brian's hand as he started to move it away from his side of the table. "Do something for me? If no one buys anything, promise that you won't get them to make me feel better."**

"**Why would I do shit like that?"**

"**Because you did it at the GLC a couple of years ago. I love that you did it, but don't, OK?"**

**Brian looked down at his plate, caught. "OK. I won't. If you sell anything, you do it on your own."**

**Justin squeezed his hand in thanks.**

**When they walked into the loft the phone was ringing.**

**Justin glanced at the caller ID. "It my father."**

"**He was in my office today. He wants to talk with you."**

"**And you're fucking telling me now? What the fuck does he want?"**

"**He wants to reestablish some contact with you. He'll probably ask to meet with you. Do you want me to take it?" The ringing stopped only to start again in less than a minute."**

"**Jesus, Brian. A little warning, maybe?"**

"**Do you want me to answer?"**

"**No. I'll talk to the fucker." He picked up the phone, Brian going to the couch, not even pretending that he wasn't listening to every word. "Hello?"**

**He went up to the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed, talking softly, maintaining his temper and wishing that Brian wasn't twenty feet away.**

"...**Yes, I'm here...I said I'm here...Why did you see Brian today?...That's such bullshit...It is. You know you hate him...Well, if you want to see me then you see him, too...Because he's my husband and part of this family, that's why...A Hell of a lot more than you are...Only if you'll be civil to him...I don't know...Because I don't know...When?...I can't then, I have a class...I don't know, I'll ask...Brian? Are you free for dinner on Wednesday?...Yes, Wednesday is fine...No, come here around seven...Fine."**

**Justin walked down to the couch, sitting next to Brian.**

"**I take it your father is joining us for dinner on Wednesday at seven. You caved in quick." His only answer was a filthy look. "It's the right thing to do. You need to find out if you two can fix things."**

"**He needs to fucking understand that we have a life together and if he doesn't choose to accept us we're alright without him."**

"**He knows that. Give him a chance."**

"**He's an asshole."**

**Brian put his arms around the smaller man, holding him. "I know that. But if you don't give him a chance, you are, too."**

"**Quoth the asshole."**

"**Fuck you."**

**Wednesday night, two days later, Justin was in a major pet over everything concerning the dinner—he agonized about the table settings, the meal—steak and potatoes—the wine, the choice of music, his clothes. This was alternated with him declaring that he didn't give a shit what his father thought. There would likely be a blowup of some sort with the mood Justin was in.**

**Finally, wearing his usual khakis and a long sleeved tee and with Brian in jeans and a cashmere top, Justin buzzed his father in.**

**It was his first visit to the loft, despite his son having lived there, off an on for about three years. He was as impressed as everyone was. Brian hung back and got the steaks under the broiler while Justin gave the tour, Craig's eyes unconsciously lingering on the large bed, the mound of pillows, the velvet duvet and the KY tube left on the nightstand.**

**Shit, he'd meant to put that away.**

**They ended up by the kitchen area, Brian pouring wine while he and Justin cut things up for the salad. It was a pretty typical evening for them. They weren't putting on a show. They spoke casually about their days, Justin talked about his classes, his teachers, his classmates, Brian about clients and a large presentation he had in the morning, a trip he had to take next week out to Seattle. It was relaxed and comfortable.**

"**I didn't know that you're a partner. You're young for that, aren't you, Brian?"**

"**I suppose."**

"**Are there many partners?"**

"**Him and me. He's senior."**

"**Brian's the only one at the entire company who didn't get fired in the takeover, other than his assistant. Now Vance is worried that he'll break off and become competition."**

"**Are you thinking of starting your own place?"**

"**I think about it, but the overhead and startups are prohibitive right now. I'm fine where I am for a while."**

"**He gets headhunted all the time, too." Justin leaned over and kissed him, they exchanged a smile—mutual pride obvious. Craig averted his eyes.**

**When Brian had turned the meat he said, "Justin has his first show in New York next month."**

"**Really?—That's something." He was clueless, dropping the ball Brian had just handed him. "Do you see your mother much?" Justin looked disappointed.**

"**A couple of times a month or so. Brian has been helping Molly with her soccer. He was all state in high school and college; they even gave him a scholarship for it. We go to some of her games." Craig looked over at Brian, he had that sort of body, long and lean but strong. "Unlike you." Justin's voice brought him back. Justin's mood had turned with having his first show blown off, he wasn't going to play the polite son.**

"**Your mother asked me not to go, Justin."**

"**Bullshit. You've cut Molly off just like you did me. The only difference is that you don't have the excuse that she's a lez."**

"**Your mother and I agreed..."**

"**That you have no children and the last twenty years never happened, right?"**

**Brian let him go, made no effort to stop him.**

"**You screwed Mom and us, you're banging your little arm candy bitch girlfriend every chance you get. You would have been fine if Mom had ended up living back with her parents or something and you didn't give a shit when I was in a coma because I was with my fag lover when it happened. You never even had the balls to thank him for saving my fucking life."**

**Craig started to say something, but instead simply stared at the counter.**

"**You spineless shit, say something."**

"**He ruined your life, Justin. Even if—you'd be gay anyway, he's the one who encouraged you to goad that boy at the dance. He's the one who brought you into this and cut you off from a normal life. You're in this mockery you call a marriage. He's the reason you've become so..."**

"**What? So queer? You forgot something. He's also the one who showed me what two men can do together—right up there" He pointed to the bed with his chin. "You want to hear how it happened?"**

"**Justin, that's enough. I'm not going to listen to this..."**

"**To what? You could almost pretend that we were 'just friends' until you saw the bed, is that about it? You don't want to know about butt fucking and blow jobs and hand jobs and what we do in the shower."**

"**Justin!" Craig had taken about enough of this. He was still his son and damn young at that.**

"**But if Brian was some stupid twat, that would be just fine, wouldn't it? If he was a woman I could bang him all night and you'd slap me on the back and everything would be just fine. Well, screw you." Brian put his arms around Justin, holding him in the familiar hug he used when he knew Justin needed it.**

"**I think I'll take a rain check for dinner." He got his jacket from the back of the chair it was lying on. "Justin, please let us try again when you're ready. Please."**

**He was still enfolded in Brian's arms, holding on. He said nothing.**

"**I will call you again." He let himself out.**

**They stood like that for several minutes. Finally Brian spoke, "He was trying. He's going to take time, Justin." He kissed the youngsters forehead.**

"**He's a fucking asshole. I hate him."**

"**He's still your father."**

"**You hated your father. You never saw him. You didn't even cry when he died."**

"**Yeah, I did." Justin raised his head, looked up at him. "And he didn't love me—yours does. Try again when you're ready."**

"**Brian? He's..."**

"**Don't piss it away."**


	10. October

**First Year**

**October**

**Justin was walking down the hallway on the third floor of PIFA's Painting and Sculpture wing when he heard his name. Looking up, he saw Ethan by the door of his tiny studio.**

"**Ethan?"**

"**I heard that you've been invited to show in some gallery in New York. I just wanted to tell you that I'm happy for you."**

"**Thanks...was there anything else?"**

"**Have you had lunch yet?"**

**He put his paint box inside his room. "No, I was headed down, you want to join me?"**

"**Yeah, if it's OK with you."**

**Justin shrugged. "Sure, fine." They hadn't seen much of each other in the last year or so. They would pass in the hall or one would see the other's name on a flyer for this or that, but they hadn't had a real conversation. Well, so much for just being friends.**

**They made their way down to the cafeteria, went through the line and found a table. Ethan looked at Justin's ring. "That working out for you?"**

**He nodded. "It's good." He took a drink from his soda. "Are you with anyone now?"**

"**I was—but no." He started on his salad. "I saw you two walking down Liberty the other day. You looked happy."**

"**We are happy." He ate a couple of fries. "Look, Ethan, did you want something?"**

"**I thought that we could still be friends."**

**Justin looked out the window to the parking lot. "You said that a year ago and it sounded thin then, I don't think that's what you want. Brian and I are married and it's working out for us. You might as well just accept that."**

**The look on Ethan's face told the story. He still wanted Justin and they both knew it. "Did he tell you that he made some calls and pulled strings to get you in that New York gallery?"**

**Justin's eyes made a quick shift to Ethan's face. "Bullshit. I talked to the gallery owner myself. He told me how they found my stuff."**

"**I was in the Dean's office last week about my scholarship and heard them talking. They said that Brian—actually they said Mr. Kinney—called his friend the gallery owner, called in a favor and uploaded your slides himself to the guy. The only reason the school let it go through was that they called the owner and he told them that your work was good enough no matter how he found out about it."**

"**That's crap. Brian wouldn't do that, and even if he had he would have told me about it."**

**Ethan stood, picking up his tray. "You might want to have a talk with the hub. I'll see you around."**

**Justin sat there for a couple of minutes. Brian wouldn't do that. Brian was always completely honest with him, never lied or any of the shit you got with most people. He believed that you made it on your own; you didn't use people, that the only thing worth celebrating was genuine accomplishment. They had celebrated this, they'd had dinner and champagne and he'd never said a word about knowing this Gormley at the gallery.**

**Shit.**

**He took out his cel, glanced at the wall clock. Brian would probably be in that lunch meeting he had mentioned this morning.**

**Shit.**

**He had English in twenty minutes. Fuck it. He got his backpack, walked out to the bus stop. It would take at least half an hour to get to Brian's office, by then he'd probably be done with the clients.**

"**Hi Justin. I didn't know you were coming in today."**

"**Hey, Cynthia. Is he here?"**

"**He's still at lunch. Would you like to wait in his office? He won't mind."**

"**Will he be long?"**

"**Maybe another half hour or so."**

"**Yeah, I'm just going to get a soda first." Ten minutes later he was sitting in Brian's office. It had been a while since he'd spent any time there and a couple of memories took root and wouldn't leave—Brian firing his ass for screwing up when he'd been interning and the reunion when he'd finally, as Brian told him to do, grown some balls and walked in, asking for both his job and his lover back. Well, it looked like today might add to his diary of Tales from Vanguard.**

**He was sitting at Brian's desk, just sort of idly looking at things, waiting. There were the expected files and papers and storyboards and paste-ups around. His laptop was set up but not on. There was a picture of the three of them, Brian and Gus and Justin at the park about six months ago. It had been a bright sunny day and the snap was one Linds took while they were sitting on a bench eating ice cream, Gus on Brian's lap and Justin holding one the child's hands. They were all smiling and happy in the picture. It had been a good day.**

**Most people never saw that side of Brian, the side that would do any fucking thing in the world for the people he loved. He'd give them money or encouragement or himself or push them off a fucking cliff if that was what they needed.**

**Or make a phone call and pull in some favors from his friend the gallery owner.**

**Shit.**

**The door opened. Brian.**

"**Cynthia said you were here. Is something wrong?" Justin almost never showed up at the office, it was too weird. Everyone stared at them. Brian came around the desk to kiss him, but Justin turned away so all he got was his ear.**

"**Why the fuck did you do it? And were you ever going to tell me that Fred Gormley is some old friend of yours?"**

**Brian straightened back up. "I sent him the slides, but he wouldn't have accepted you if the work wasn't up to his standards. All he agreed to do was look at them. The offer came from him."**

"**That is such complete bullshit. What did you do? Offer to handle the ads for his gallery this year for free or something?"**

"**I didn't offer him anything. I told him that I knew a young artist who might be of interest to him. When he asked, I uploaded some samples of your work."**

"**Right. And what else did you do? Did you offer to blow him if he gave me the fifth slot in the show?"**

"**No and you don't have to either. All I did was exactly what I told you."**

"**You fucker—poor stupid Justin can't do anything on his own. Brian has to hold his gimp hand and smooth the road and make the phone calls and see to it that everyone is nice and no Goddamned hint of realty sneaks it's way in. Fuck you."**

**Brian, with some effort, kept his temper. "Fuck you. All I did was to open a door for you. If your work sucked, it would have ended right there and we wouldn't be going to New York tomorrow. You got into the show on your own merit and you fucking know that."**

"**Like Hell."**

"**How the fuck did you find out about it anyway?"**

"**What difference does it make? The point is that I found out and you lied to me."**

"**I didn't lie, you asshole. Networking is what I fucking do for a living. I've known Fred since I was in college and I did him a Goddamned favor as much as I did you one. He needs to have the top new talent to maintain his own reputation for shit's sake. Now who was the elf who's been filling your ears with bullshit?"**

**Reluctantly Justin 'fessed up. "I had lunch with Ethan."**

"...**Why the fuck would you listen to him?" Brian was getting pissed off. "You know what a lying fuck he is."**

"**He's not a ..."**

"**You really want me to get into this?"**

**Shit.**

**Brian was right—again. Ethan was a shit and he'd listened to him. He knew better. He should have fucking known better.**

**Justin stood up, went to Brian, his arms going around him. "Shit, I'm sorry."**

**Brian held him back. "It's alright." He kissed the smaller man's forehead. "You know I wouldn't jerk you around like that. You got that show on your own. The fact that I know Fred isn't important."**

"...**Brian, is that the truth? You didn't pull any strings to get me accepted?"**

"**It's the truth, twat."**

**They were still embracing when Vance knocked once and walked in. They both looked over at him.**

"**Yes, quite. Forgive my interrupting, but might you earn your exorbitant salary, Brian? The people from Hartz Mountain are in the main conference room if you would so good as to join us. Nice to see you again, Justin."**

"**Hello, Mr. Vance."**

"**I'll be right there, Gardner." Vance was gone.**

**Another kiss. "Later."**

"**Later."**

**They left for New York early the next morning, just waiting long enough to miss rush hour. The drive was uneventful and they crossed the George Washington Bridge around four thirty, heading to midtown and the gallery to unload. Fred was waiting, directing them to the loading dock and there were a couple of people to help them carry the paintings inside. Justin was shown his wall space and offered any help he might need.**

**It was suggested that, given the hour and the fact that they had just finished a long drive, they might want to deal with this in the morning, check into their hotel, get some dinner, rest or whatever they'd like and come back around ten the next morning to setup. Since they only had eight paintings to deal with, they could all be up in a few hours, the opening itself—and the reception—would take place the next evening.**

**Needing little encouragement and feeling tired, hungry and dirty, they agreed. The car was left in a secure garage and the three-block walk to their hotel was a nice break after being cooped up all day.**

**They were shown their room, tipped the bellboy, Justin laughing as the door closed. "This is a lot like the room in Chelsea."**

"**You think?"**

"**I think."**

**They proceeded to prove it—on the bed, in the shower and back on the bed.**

**The temptation to sleep in the next morning was great, but they really couldn't. A quick room service breakfast and they had to go. Justin excited by it all—his first New York show, his first real trip to New York with Brian, his first real shot at making a dent in the art world, flip flopped between almost giggling excitement and paralyzing fear. Brian, trying to be supportive, was about to kill him.**

**The paintings went up without a problem and by three everything was ready for the opening at seven. Fred told all of the young artists, drawn from RISD, Kansas City Art Institute, Parsons and FIT, as well as Justin, that he was as excited about this group as he'd ever been and that he knew this show would be memorable, that the critics would rave and that they all had brilliant futures ahead of them**

**They all knew it was bullshit, but enjoyed hearing it anyway. As they were all headed to hotels or apartments to get showered, fed and changed. Fred took Brian's arm.**

"**So did you want to get dinner before the show? It would give us a chance to catch up—besides, I have something I'd like to talk with Justin about."**

**They agreed to meet at a small Japanese place Fred knew over on 57th at five.**

**Justin, so wound up that Brian was forced to make a conscious effort not to strangle him, was slightly helped by the shower sex and more bed sex, but not nearly enough. Brian's patience was being tested as they walked to the restaurant.**

"**How did you two meet?"**

"**Fred used to be an art director at Ryder when I first started there. He's the one who taught me what's really important in an ad—not what the schools teach you. He was also the only other gay there at the time, at least who I was aware of. He's smart and funny and we've been friends since my first day there."**

"**Did you ever fuck him?"**

"**Fred? God, no." He stopped. "This is the place." Going in, Fred was already waiting. Over the tempura and the teriyaki they told Justin stories about young Brian getting his first accounts, setting himself apart from the pack of new hires and recent grads, impressing the clients first with his looks and then with his intelligence and ideas.**

**Justin had wondered about young Brian, how he had dealt with being the new kid, the new hire. He had always assumed that he'd just sailed through like he usually did.**

**Fred was the one who set him straight. "Remember that asshole, Brian—the ad exec who always took credit for everyone else's ideas? Well one day he tried to rip off some campaign Brian had busted his balls over, really a knock your socks off kind of thing and was trying to cut Brian out if the loop, take the bonus and all that sort of shit."**

"**So what did you do?" Justin directed that at Brian, Fred answered.**

"**Right in front of Ryder and the clients, Brain asked Stan, the asshole, where he'd gotten his research for the copy—it was some esoteric shit that Brian had spent weeks looking up and getting right—Stan tried to bullshit his way through, but pretty much stepped in it. Ryder fired him that afternoon and after that Brian had the rep and no one tried to screw with him."**

"**They still don't." Justin kissed his cheek.**

"**I hear you two really got married, hmm? I never thought anyone would get to this one here—when I heard that, I knew I had to meet you."**

"**Fuck you, Fred."**

"**Bite me, Brian. You know, Justin, if your stuff sucked, even if it was Brian who brought you in, it would still be in Pittsburgh. In case you were wondering."**

"**I was, but Brian told me pretty much the same thing."**

"**He's right. I may be a nice guy, but it's still a business and I've got a rep to protect. Your shit is good, that's why I'd like you to think about letting me be your agent here in New York. I think there's a market for your work. I have the gallery to show your paintings and we'd both make out well."**

"...**Thanks."**

"**Don't give me an answer now. Talk it over with Brian and we'll get back to it tomorrow or so. You two done? We should head over."**

**Justin held Brian's hand. Jesus, he felt like Dorothy about to walk into Oz.**

**The gallery was set for the opening. The caterers had been there and the flowers were in place. The work lights were off, the picture lighting was on and the crowd was starting to arrive. Justin started out glued to Brian, but as the evening wore on and the invited guests approached him to offer compliments he began to loosen up enough to start to enjoy himself.**

**He spent a good half hour talking to some guy in jeans and a turtleneck—black, of course, before being pulled away by some woman in a classic 50's Dior New Look gown. From her he was passed on to the usual groupies and parents of the other artists and began to thoroughly have fun.**

**The crowd had spilled out to the sidewalk and after a couple of hours he found Brian there having a cigarette, chatting with some man who seemed to be hitting on him. Going over, he put his arm around Brian's waist, pulling him down for a kiss, staking his claim.**

"**Justin, this is Larry Scheck. He's been wanting to meet you. He's the editor of Art News."**

**Shaking hands, Larry was saying how impressed he was and would Justin agree to an interview in the morning before they left to go home? He'd like to feature Justin's paintings and touch on the fact that he'd come back from the bashing, if he wouldn't mind.**

"**If it's alright with you, Mr. Scheck, I'd rather not dwell on that. It would seem like I'm going for sympathy and I'd like my work to stand on it's own merit."**

"**Well—I can do that, too, it you'd prefer."**

"**I'm not trying to be difficult or anything, but it's simply not relevant at this point."**

"**Fine. Tomorrow at ten. Is here at the gallery good? We'd like to get pictures of you with some of the paintings."**

"**I'll be here. Thank you, Mr. Scheck, thank you so much."**

"**If you'll excuse me, I need another glass of wine." He went back inside.**

"**God, Brian, this is so fantastic! I had no idea that it would be so much fun and everyone is so incredibly nice. I mean, I know they're blowing smoke up my ass, but it sounds so fucking good!"**

**Fred touched his arm. "Justin, if you could come inside, two of your paintings just sold and the new owners would like to meet you."**

**That big sunshine smile broke out. "Brian—shit."**

**The next morning Brian had the New York Times brought up to the room on the breakfast tray. There was an article about the opening, Justin was the breakout star.**

**They made it back down to the gallery by nine thirty, bringing coffee and bagels for everyone and accepting congratulations. He saw the red dots on six of his eight paintings. Six sold the first night for from seven hundred to three thousand dollars. His personal take was just under seven thousand dollars.**

"**God, Brian, this is amazing." He couldn't stop grinning.**

**Larry Scheck showed up with a photographer, asked questions for about an hour, spent thirty minutes taking pictures, thanked them all and left. Fred told them that he was as well received as any young artist he had ever seen. In fact, the Times critic had asked Fred when he was scheduled for a one-man show. At first Fred had taken it as just an over the top comment, but the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea—would April be too soon to get enough pieces ready?**

**Justin threw his arms around Fred, causing him to burst out laughing. "Watch that shit. Brian will whip my ass."**

"**Fred, we have to get on the road. This had been terrific."**

**Justin went to shake his hand but was pulled into a bear hug.**

"**Are you shitting me? I now have the new hot artist—I do get to rep you, right? Hell, Brian can look over the contract. I'll send it when I cut your check for the sales."**

**Justin, for once speechless, just nodded.**

**They arrived back at the loft around eight that night. The drive was smooth enough, but they'd stopped for dinner and gas and had taken their time. Justin hadn't stopped talking the entire time and Brian was ready to kill him.**

**They opened the door to the loft, ready to collapse. As they put the bags in the bedroom and began stripping to shower, Brian hit the blinking answering machine.**

**Most of the messages were boring or telemarketers. The seventh one was different.**

"**Hey, Justin? It's Ethan. I know I shouldn't be calling you at home, but I was hoping that when you get back from New York we could hook up and talk. OK? I'd like to talk about—well, I'll tell you when I see you. OK? Give me a call. You know the number."**

**Goddamnit.**


	11. November

**First Year**

**November**

"**What the fuck does he want this time?"**

"**I don't know. Maybe he just heard that I signed the contract with Fred and wants to congratulate me or something."**

"**Fat fucking chance."**

"**Brian, you don't have to worry about him, you know that."**

"**Not worried doesn't mean that I like it. That asshole has been calling for over a month and I'm fucking tired of it."**

**They two of them had been squabbling over Ethan for weeks now, since they had gotten back from the show in New York. Hardly a day went by without Justin hearing from him one way or another. Either he'd call the loft or his cel or meet him after some class or walk up to him in the cafeteria.**

**He'd never stepped over any kind of a line, he always asked how Brian was and he always left when Justin said he had something to do or someplace to go.**

**He was just always fucking there.**

**OK, sure. They knew Ethan was trying to get back in Justin's life, but it wouldn't work and it was getting annoying.**

"**Alright, I'll talk to him. I'll tell him to leave me alone."**

**Over breakfast at the diner, with Justin in the bathroom, Debbie sat next to Brian during a brief lull. "You two need to get away, just the two of you so you can get your fucking priorities straight. You need to tell fucking Ethan to leave your husband the Hell alone and you—Mister—need to get a shitload more sleep than you've been getting the last few months. You hear what I'm saying to you?" Now that they were back from New York, Brian was trying to make up for lost time by going back to his fourteen hour a day schedule, with another eight or so hours on Saturday thrown in for good measure. Justin was worried and angry and at a loss as to how to cope with a problem he had hoped solved a couple of months ago.**

**Brian was sitting on the bench of the booth with his back against the wall, his foot up and his arm resting on the table. He gave Deb a mild look, for him. "Anything else, Mom?"**

"**Yeah, a Hell of a lot more. You need to drop your fucking attitude about your damn job and let that kid know that he's more important to you than your name on a Goddamned office door. After that, you have to make peace with your father-in-law. I'm willing to concede that your bitch of a mother is a lost cause, but Justin's hurting about his Dad and you're the only one who can fix that."**

"**His father is a homophobic asshole who has hated me for three years. What the fuck am I supposed to do to change that?"**

"**Well, I don't know—something. What the fuck are you two doing for Thanksgiving?"**

**Justin came back, taking his seat opposite Brian. "We're going to my Mom's. My grandparents are coming in and I think my aunt will be there, too."**

**Deb looked at Brian. "It's about time you had a place to go other than camping out at my house—you are taking the day off, aren't you?"**

"**Brian told me that he's taking a long weekend to just sleep."**

"**Yeah, I know what his 'just sleeping' means. You close your eyes once in a while, don't just spend the whole time in bed, OK?" She looked over at the kitchen. "Oh, shit, my orders are up." She was gone.**

"**I can't take the whole weekend off. I'll have to go into the office on Friday and I might have to put in a couple of hours on Saturday."**

**Justin looked at him in disbelief. "Are you shitting me?" Brian sipped his coffee, not responding. "When the fuck were you planning on telling me?"**

"**I just did."**

"**Goddamnit, Brian. We had plans and you said..."**

"**I have an early meeting. I'll see you later."**

"**When? Fucking midnight?"**

"**Back off, twat. This is business and I'm late. I have to go." He got up, put on his coat and left Justin sitting there. Seeing, if not hearing, what had happened, Michael came over, sitting where Brian had just been.**

"**What happened?"**

"**Nothing."**

"**Bullshit. That's the Brian Kinney just fucked me face. What did he do this time?"**

**Justin didn't usually talk about their relationship, but he was hurt and pissed. "He's working over Thanksgiving after telling me that he'd take the time off."**

"**He has a couple of really big accounts that need handholding. Besides, you know he's trying to position himself to so that he can either make a big move to another agency or open his own shop. This is important to him."**

"**I thought that I was important to him."**

"**You are—he fucking married you, didn't he? And he took time to help you with your show in New York last month and he went up to Canada a couple of times with you—he's done a lot, Justin."**

**Justin was toying with his eggs, drawing patterns in the now cold yolks with his fork. "I just wish that I mattered as much to him as his fucking job."**

"**You asshole. Why the Hell do you think he's practically killing himself working? He's doing it for the two of you."**

"**He'd be doing it whether I was here or not." Needing to get to class, Justin walked out. Emmett wandered over to see what had happened.**

"**Have you noticed that Justin is a fucking princess?"**

"**Why yes, I have, sweetie. It's part of his charm."**

**Brian didn't tell Justin that his early meeting was at Taylor Construction Corp. Walking into the main office, he informed the secretary that, no he didn't have an appointment, but he thought his father-in-law might be able to spare a few minutes. It wouldn't take long.**

**Her eyes wide at who the astoundingly handsome man in front of her was, the young lady disappeared into the inner office for just a minute, coming out almost immediately. "Mr. Taylor will see you, sir, go right in."**

"**What do you want, Kinney?"**

"**Are you planning on going to Jennifer's for Thanksgiving?"**

"**I have other plans."**

"**Fucking break them. Both of your kids want you there."**

"**And I take it that you'll be there, too."**

"**I'm married to your son, yes, I'll be there." Craig started to dismiss him, tell him to get the Hell out of his office. "I'll stay away from you, you stay away from me. This isn't about us. I don't like you any more than you like me. You're a fucking parent—act like it, do something for your Goddamned kids. Show up for the fucking dinner."**

**Craig leaned back in his chair. "Does Justin know you're here?"**

"**No, and unless you're a bigger asshole than I thought, you won't tell him and you'll let him think that you're there because you actually want to be."**

**He paused for a moment. "What time?"**

"**Two."**

**He nodded. "Fine, I'll be there."**

"**Good for you, Craig. I'll even let them think that you wanted to come."**

**When Justin came out of his computer graphics class, Ethan was waiting for him.**

"**Hey, you want to get some lunch?"**

**Shit. Brian would be pissed if he knew. Well, OK. He could use this to break it off. "Sure, fine."**

**They walked down to the cafeteria. It was late, after three and there was almost no one in the place. They went through the line, Ethan surprising Justin by actually springing for the shrimp roll and the large shrimp salad. He looked a question at the musician "I played a wedding last weekend. I'm rich today."**

**Nodding, Justin took his hamburger and fries over to one of the secluded window tables, hidden behind a screen for privacy. The two of them sat down, starting with some small talk about the upcoming holiday. Finally, almost at the end of the quick meal, Justin just said what he had to.**

"**Look, Ethan, I know you want to be friends and all that, but I don't think it's really going to work out."**

"**Sure it can. I mean, we're just friends, that's all. It's not a big deal or anything."**

"**Brian doesn't like it and I'm not comfortable, so I think we should just let it go, OK?"**

**Ethan looked stricken, like when Justin had left him the first time. "Shit, Justin, do you always do what the hub says? Can't you fucking think for yourself for once in your life?**

"**As a matter of fact, I can." Getting up, taking his tray, he left without bothering with another word.**

**If he had looked back he might have seen Ethan angrily shove the large shrimp in his mouth. Seated behind the screen, no one saw, no one could perform the Heimlich maneuver. He was found about fifteen minutes later, choked to death on the shrimp.**

**Because of that week's holiday and pending notification of next of kin, no announcement was made.**

"**Mikey, I told you, I'm going to Jennifer's with Justin for Thanksgiving."**

"**But we always spend Thanksgiving together. It's a tradition, asshole."**

"**Well, this is a new tradition. Deal with it."**

"**You are so Goddamned whipped by him I can't believe it. Are you going to be taking up pottery next so you two can have art in common?"**

"**Fuck you, asshole—fine. We'll try to stop by for dessert after, but don't count on us."**

"**Asshole." Michael hung up the phone. Sure, he had Ben and that was great, but Brian was still his best friend. OK, he couldn't stand Hunter and he was busy with his job and with Boy Wonder, but they were supposed to be there for each other. He knew, he really knew, that pretty soon now Brian would wake up to what a pain in the ass princess the twat really was and then he'd be there for him. He knew Brian still loved him—always had, always will. Even when the twat was gone, they'd still be around. He could wait.**

**Thanksgiving morning was frigid; a cold front had moved in from Canada and had the entire city in an early freeze. Justin tried, without success to get the heat working and a call to the building manager told him to call back after the holiday. Shit.**

"**Brian, we can't stay here. There isn't even a fireplace and with fucking twenty foot ceilings, there's no way in Hell space heaters with do squat."**

"**This is the mouth you kiss your mother with?"**

"**It's also the mouth I suck you off with and I've never heard you complain."**

**Brian was reaching for one of his cashmere turtlenecks, shit it was freezing. "OK, we can stay in a hotel for a couple for days."**

"**Brian, that is such bullshit. We can just stay with my mother and save the thousand dollars that would cost us."**

"**I'd rather spend the thousand." Seeing the look on Justin's face he relented. "What did she say when you asked her?"**

"**She's thrilled."**

"**I'll bet she is." He tossed Justin a weekend bag. "Get your shit."**

**They got to Jennifer's an hour later, having packed and stopped to get some flowers. Brian had insisted that they get a small bouquet for Molly, too, letting her know they'd thought of her. With the heat out, they got to Jen's early enough to help with the cooking—or rather Justin did. Brian was relegated to helping Molly set the table, putting out the snacks and setting up the bar.**

**Jennifer walked out to see how he was doing. If the man knew anything, he knew how to set up a bar. It was just fine. "Brian, are you going to stop by your mother's this afternoon?"**

"**No, I thought that I'd try to have a pleasant day, thanks."**

**She let that go. "You wouldn't know anything about Craig deciding to show up today, would you?"**

"**Why the fuck would I know anything about that?"**

"...**Because he said that you stopped by his office to suggest that Justin and Molly would like him to show up." He gave her a level look. "Thank you."**

**The rest of the guests showed up a couple of hours later, the college games were turned on and Justin and Brian did their best to ignore them. The two of them spent most of the time either watching a movie with some of the cousins or chatting with Justin's grandparents. Craig was ensconced in front of the TV, as was his norm on family holidays, and things went pretty smoothly, all things considered.**

**They were sitting down to eat when the bell rang again. OK, there was one empty place, but Brian had just chalked that down to a mis-count. Jumping up, Molly went while everyone else worked on loading their plates.**

"**Brian? It's for you."**

**Turning around to the doorway, he managed a startled and none too pleased, "Mom, what are you doing here?" She was holding an enormous cake, obviously homemade and very chocolate.**

"**Mrs. Taylor invited me. She thought that it would be nice if we all got to know each other."**

"**Why the fuck would she think that?"**

"**Well, Brian I just thought that with Craig here and my parents and everyone, your mother would like to have a nice big family dinner and we could all get acquainted."**

**Joan made her tentative way to the empty seat across from Brian and Justin. The look Brian threw Jen was one of his classics—angry, betrayed and close to walking out. Justin put his hand on his arm and gave him a pleading look.**

"**Why aren't you with Claire?" The rest of the table had gone silent. The only sounds were the occasional clinking of silverware on china.**

"**Your sister went to visit her new boyfriend in Orlando and took the boys with her. Mrs. Taylor called me this week to see if I had plans and I told her that I was free, so here I am."**

"**So explain to me why you'd want to eat dinner with a couple of fags? Shouldn't you be praying for our salvation, lighting a few candles?"**

"**I went to Mass this morning, darling. You know I go every morning. Perhaps you'd join me one of these days."**

"**Not fucking likely."**

"**Brian, must you use such language?"**

"**I think I've earned it today."**

**Jennifer's father spoke up, "Brian, Mrs. Kinney, if you don't mind, this is a family dinner. I understand that there's some bad blood between the two of you, but I'll ask you to keep that to yourselves while we eat."**

**The two Kinney's looked at him. Joan nodded, Brian actually muttered a "Sorry." The meal went on, everyone pretending that the far end of the table wasn't thick with tension and that Brian had eaten almost nothing. Joan was attempting small talk, and surprised her son by seeming to be pleasant.**

**Tapping the edge of his glass for silence, Bill spoke again about half way through the meal. Brian had joined in the conversation but his plate remained untouched.**

"**If I may, I'd like to offer a toast this evening." Everyone stopped talking. "Tonight, we have much to be grateful for. Justin is with us and healthy again." There were happy murmurs. "We are blessed to have the addition of a new member to our family—Brian, and we trust that he and Justin will be with us and happy for many years to come." Justin kissed Brian's cheek, smiling. Brian returned the kiss; noticing Craig and Joan's visibly flinch at the sight. "Despite some difficulties, Jennifer and Craig have managed to keep what's important in sight and Claudia and I are, God willing and the creeks don't rise, going to see our grandchildren grow up." He raised his glass. "To health, and happiness."**

**The others chorused his toast, drinking their wine.**

**If Bill had hoped for a thaw between Brian and his mother, he was to be disappointed. Though they remained civil to one another, they didn't exchange another word and Joan left as the dessert plates were cleared away. Craig had the good sense to steer clear of the charged situation and also left relatively early. After another hour or so of small talk, Brian quietly made his way up to Justin's old room, where Justin found him lying on the bed, fully clothed in the dark.**

"**You alright?"**

"**I couldn't fucking believe your mother asked that cunt here without a Goddamned word to me."**

"**Brian..."**

"**I mean, fuck me, what did she think would happen? That we'd bury the hatchet? Maybe we could just kiss and make up."**

"**Brian, it wasn't..."**

"**That bitch stood by and watched my father beat the crap out of me, she's informed me that I'm going to Hell—where you'll be joining me by the way, she accused me of molesting Claire's fucking kid and after that she had the balls to ask me for money as she was disinheriting me." He exhaled explosively. "Fucking bitch."**

"**I called her."**

"**What?"**

**He sat on the edge of the bed. "It wasn't Mom—well, OK it was, but she called Joan because I asked her to."**

"**Jesus, Justin, what the fuck were you thinking?"**

**He tried to stroke Brian's face. The older man turned away. "I thought that if she could see you here, with people you like and relaxed and happy, she'd ..."**

"**See that I'm not a complete shit?"**

**He managed a small smile. "Something like that."**

"**Sunshine, don't hold your fucking breath."**

"**But maybe with enough time she'll..."**

"**Justin, don't. Don't try to put this back together. If it was ever whole, it's fucking shattered now and I don't ever want to see that cunt again."**

"**Bri..."**

"**No."**

**He nodded. He'd let it go. At least his father was there tonight, at least that was starting to heal.**


	12. December

**First Year**

**December**

"**Justin, you're back up in the same room you were in last year. Jen, Molly, you're in the second bedroom. Now why don't you all get settled and lunch will be ready in about half an hour."**

**The three Taylor's took their bags upstairs, Justin forcing a smile as he went. After telling him that he would try to make it to the grandparents, Brian had been forced to cancel at the last minute, having to fly to LA for some client or other. Why the fuck he was going on the twenty-third of December when everyone knew that the world stopped for a few days around Christmas, was beyond Justin, but he'd heard the call from Gardner himself—Brian had the speaker set on the phone while he was on the computer and Vance had insisted that Brian had to go as the client's preferred working with him and the account was too fucking big to jeopardize.**

**Brian had come as close as he ever would to an apology and Justin knew he would rather that they were together but instead of telling Vance to fuck off for a week or even a few days, he had agreed to the trip. Vance had felt so guilty—or so it seemed to Justin—that he had sprung for first class, an unheard of extravagance for him. The next morning when the obviously obscenely large flower arrangement had arrived for Justin from Vance with a note apologizing for taking his husband away for the holidays, Justin ranted that he was being treated like a 'fucking housewife twat.'**

**Brian bursting out laughing hadn't helped any.**

**Shit.**

**Brian had left that morning and would be there at least until December twenty-seventh.**

**With no other plans and not wanting to spend the week with Debbie or alone, Justin had driven to Long Island with Jen and Molly for the annual family Christmas gathering there.**

**Their first married Christmas and they were apart.**

**Shit.**

**Oh, sure, he could have gone out to LA with Brian and spent all day being a tourist by himself while Brian was in meetings. He could have had room service while Brian took the clients out to dinner—fuck that. He went to his grandparents, knowing that the holiday would suck and that he'd have to pretend that everything was fine when, in fact everything was falling to shit.**

**Brian was still working twelve to fourteen hours a day, six days a week, Ethan had died after eating lunch with him a few weeks ago—shit if he's just looked back or stayed another couple of minutes he could have done something. OK, they weren't the best of friends anymore, but it wasn't like he wanted the fucker to actually die. He had been sort of surprised at how few people were upset by his death—there was almost a kind of glee about it. Weird.**

**Michael was a whining mess and was leaving like five calls a day on the fucking answering machine and Craig was trying to patch up the gulf between them while pretending that Brian didn't exist and that this whole little romp through gayville was just a phase he was going through.**

**The one bright spot was his relationship with Fred at the gallery in New York. The stuff he was doing for the upcoming show was the best he'd ever done and Fred was pressing him to produce more than he had originally asked for—he was hoping for a sell out based on the reception he'd gotten at the group show in October.**

**Shit. Putting his clothes in the bureau, he headed down to the kitchen, mentally singing "Gray skies are gonna clear up...put on a happy face..."**

"**So, Justin, we're disappointed that Brian can't join us this year."**

**No shit, me, too. "He has to talk to some clients on the West Coast and the only time they had available was the 24th through the 26th. He's disappointed, too."**

"**He's working on Christmas?" His grandmother put a bowl of soup in front of him. "The poor thing. He's Catholic, too. That's not right."**

"**He's not religious."**

**His mother passed the chips to go along with the soup and the plate of sandwiches on the middle of the table. "His mother told me that he'd taken her to Mass a couple of times."**

"**God, is she a bitch, or what?"**

"**Molly! I've had enough of that kind of talk. You can do better than that."**

"**That was better. Brian calls her a cunt."**

"**Upstairs now and I'll speak to Brian when I see him." With absolutely no remorse, Molly headed up the stairs. The four adults left in the kitchen sat down to their meal.**

**Bill, Justin's grandfather offered beers to everyone, Jennifer opting for soda and Claudia, Jen's mother, for apple juice. "Did you ever meet his father, Justin?"**

"**No. He died a couple of years ago. From what I've heard from people, he was pretty awful. I know he used to beat Brian up a lot and DYFS was called in a few times when he was a minor."**

"**Because Brian is gay?"**

**Justin took a drink of his beer. "Brian only told him that a couple of months before he died. He just didn't want kids. He hated Brian."**

"**What would his mother do, did she try to help him?"**

"**No, she didn't do anything, to hear Debbie and Michael and Lindsay tell it—they're friends of Brian's. I think she used to pray a lot. She still does."**

**His mother passed the plate of sandwiches. "It not hard to understand why Brian is the way he is."**

"**Excuse me?" Justin always quick to defend Brian, a trait he shared with Michael.**

"**I just mean that he tends to be closed off emotionally. If his family was as dysfunctional as it seems, he's done a remarkable job coping the way he does."**

"**God, Grandma, you're not going to go psychological on me, are you? Brian is fine, he just works hard, that's all—and his family is screwed up. A lot of families are screwed up."**

**His grandfather diffused the conversation before it became a problem. "Except ours, of course."**

**His mother looked at her father. "Right, Dad."**

**The rest of the day was spent in getting the house ready for the rest of the relatives on Christmas; the tree was brought in from the garage where it had been waiting in a bucket of water, the ornaments brought down from the attic. Jen and her mother went out for some last minute shopping and the others started on the tree.**

**By the time the tree was finished, the women were home, the dinner was started and Justin was fighting to make the others think he was OK. At eight he called Brian's hotel room only to be told that Mr. Kinney wasn't picking up. Would he care to leave a message? Just that he had called and please call back when he got in. He was hesitant to call the cel, not wanting to interrupt a meeting.**

**He waited the entire evening, jumping when the phone rang, but Brian didn't call. Depressed, he finally went to bed around one.**

**The next morning he woke up to snow. An early season storm had started during the night. Though only about four or five inches were expected, it made everything look like a Currier and Ives print and helped slightly. He went out to shovel the walk, ending up helping Molly make a snowman and both of them laughing at the finished product.**

**Going back in, he tried Brian again from the phone in the study. It was eight AM in LA. No answer. Shit.**

"**He's in an early meeting?" Bill walked in, saw his face and guessed what was going on. Justin nodded without saying anything. "All this work, all these hours he puts in—what does he hope to gain?"**

"**His own agency or a senior partnership at the least. A lot more money. Bigger clients." He shrugged. "More perks. Proving he's the best."**

"**He wants to be the richest bastard in he cemetery?"**

"**I guess. Something like that." He was unconsciously turning the gold ring on his finger. His grandfather noticed that it wasn't quite as shiny as it had been when it was new. It had wear on it, a few scratches and a scar or two where it had taken a couple of hard hits. It was getting broken in.**

**Bill sat down in one of the wing chairs. "What do you want?"**

"**To paint. For us to be together. That would make me happy."**

"**Justin, have you talked to him about this? When we saw him over Thanksgiving he looked exhausted. And if he does get the agency or the partnership he wants, he won't slow down then, you know that don't you?"**

"**Yeah, I know."**

"**Justin..."**

**He stood up, "Grandpa? Could we not talk about this right now, please?" He went upstairs, closing the door behind him. Down in the study Bill looked at the piece of paper he'd left sitting on the desk. Seeing the numbers written there, he picked up the phone and dialed. Fuck the meetings.**

**Out in L.A., Brian took the call, actually glad for the interruption. The trip was more boring than he would have thought possible and the weather was managing to annoy him. He couldn't help it. He was an Eastern boy. Christmas, if not actually white, sure as shit should be cold enough to freeze the proverbial witch's tit. Eighty-five and sunny was fine for July. In December it was pathetic.**

**The deal was coming along just fine, as he knew it would. The deal was fine last week and would have been fine next week—the asshole clients just wanted some handholding and some ego-stoking before they signed for fifteen million dollars over the next three years. Vance would be happy and Brian would insist that this be made up not just to him, but to Justin as well and with more than just fucking flowers.**

**He listened to what Bill had to say to him, agreed and knew that he would have to do something. Going back into the conference room, he addressed the other seven people who were there and who had been there for what was now the third day. There wasn't an eye in the room that wasn't glazing over and there wasn't a brain in the room concentrating on the long-term sales figures based on projected earnings.**

**Fuck it.**

**With suppressed relief, they all agreed—in so many words—that this was bullshit, it was Goddamned Christmas Eve and, screw it.**

**It was the easiest sell he'd ever had. No one wanted to be there.**

**Shaking hands, they walked out, promising that the contracts would be over nighted to Vanguard on the twenty-sixth. The CEO offered to drop Brian at LAX and the man's secretary booked his flight—the client even agreeing to pick up the tab. Stopping at the Beverly Wiltshire for fifteen minutes, he got his things, checked out and they were gone.**

**Eight hours later he let himself in the Breslin's home, knowing where the key was kept from last year. It was two in the morning. The house was dark, no sounds.**

**He made his way up to the room they had shared last year, assuming, hoping that's where Justin had been put again. Opening the door as silently as he could, he entered the dark room, feeling his way to the bed. Sitting carefully—with no light and a moonless night, it was like pitch in the room—he was surprised to feel no one there. The spread was smooth, the bed unused.**

**Shit. Where was the twat?**

**He went back downstairs. The kitchen? No. The study, maybe on the computer or the phone? No.**

**He went down the hall to the living room.**

**Pay dirt.**

**The fire was burning low, the only light in the room. Justin was sitting in front of the fireplace on the couch, his legs crossed Indian style in front of him, hugging a throw pillow. He was just sitting, staring; Brian could hear his allergies acting up from the doorway.**

**Brian came up behind him, his arms sneaking around from the back, embracing and kissing his neck.**

"**And what did you want for Christmas, little boy?"**

**Justin jumped about ten feet. "Fuck me, Brian, you gave me a heart attack, asshole."**

"**Nice to see you, too."**

**Pulling the arms that were still around his neck, Justin flipped Brian over the back of the sofa, catching him, sort of, as he came over. Somehow, he landed so that their mouths were together, kissing hard, missing one another. "Why the fuck aren't you in California?"**

"**Because I thought that you might miss me." He was untying the robe Justin was wearing, slipping his hands inside. He seemed to have nothing else on.**

"**Bullshit. What are you doing here?" He was pulling Brian's sweater over his head, running his hands up and down his back and sides.**

"**Families should be together for the holidays." Justin was removing Brian's jeans, his hands sliding in, pushing them down, the underwear following. He started gripping Brian's ass, kneading the two cheeks and rubbing the flesh there.**

"**Crap. How come you're in New York?" Brian was suckling on the side of his neck, undoubtedly leaving a mark. He'd be teased for it when everyone saw tomorrow. "Brian?" He was starting down, pausing at his nipples, knowing how much Justin loved the feeling of his mouth there.**

"**The meetings ended early." He was still on the left tit.**

"**You are so completely full of shit. What made you fly back in the middle of the night?"**

**He paused for just a moment before moving down further. "I missed you."**

"**Yeah, sure you did—did I tell you to stop?" He was nuzzling in Justin's pubes. Yes, he was a true blond. "Why are you here?"**

**Just as he was poised to engulf Justin's rather needy and prominent cock, he looked up for just a long second. "Your grandfather called me out of a meeting this afternoon and told me that if I didn't get my ass back here, he'd cut my balls off with a dull knife and I believed him."**

**In response, Justin groaned.**

**Upstairs Bill had gotten up to check when he had heard the front door open and close. It was right below the master bedroom and he had always known when Jen and her sister got home from dates. He heard footsteps going through the quiet house and, after a few minutes, went down to make sure it was who he thought.**

**He saw them in the study, pausing, watching for a very little while before leaving them alone.**

**When he had called Brian, he wasn't sure the man would come, he had half expected to be told to fuck off, to mind his own business, but after seeing Justin and Brian together and having to get to know the older man a bit over the last year or so, he hoped he'd do the right thing for his grandson.**

**He heard and saw them on the sofa, hoping they'd have the presence of mind to not fall asleep there after they were finished. It wasn't the sort of Christmas morning surprise Claudia would appreciate.**

**The next morning at breakfast everyone except Bill was surprised to see Brian and Justin walk into the living room, holding hands, Molly shrieking and throwing herself around Brian's middle. After the hugs and kisses and welcomes the presents were handed out, opened and exclaimed over, Justin and Brian sitting on the floor, Justin between Brian's long legs. There were a couple of things from the grandparents for him, but everything else—both for and from Brian were in Pittsburgh. A box would be sent next week.**

**An hour later the eggs and bacon and muffins were eaten, the women made everyone leave except for Justin—the only one besides his grandmother who could cook. Jennifer peeled the vegetables.**

**Bill pulled Brian into his study.**

"**I want to talk to you and you sit there and listen. If you want to tell me to go to Hell, keep it to yourself."**

**The two men sat in the two big leather wing chairs. Brian had a pretty good idea what was coming. He figured he could tune it out.**

"**Now we both know that grandson of mine is in love with you. I have to admit that last year I wasn't all that happy about the whole situation with you and him—don't give me any of that homophobic crap—and I'm not talking about the fact that you're older and richer, either.**

"**We both know you've been around the block a few more times than anyone should be. You drink too much and you likely do a few other things that aren't all that good for you and the way that boy looks up to you I was worried that you'd have him doing things that would bring him to grief."**

**Brian looked bored. "And you still think I'm an asshole and I'm hurting Justin because I work too many hours and I travel too much for my job and I'll probably screw him over one way or another, right?"**

"**I couldn't argue with you."**

"**It's nice to be right, I guess." Brian rolled his eyes just a bit.**

"**But the problems you're having aren't because of all that shit—and that's all it is. Justin knows you're doing a lot of it for him and he knows that you'll slow down in a couple of years."**

**Brian was surprised by that. It wasn't what he expected. "Oh? So what are the problems?"**

"**That you don't notice when he's worried about you. That boy loves you and what you're doing to yourself is tearing him up."**

"**What the fuck are you talking about?"**

"**When was the last time you had a full night's sleep?"**

**This was not what he had expected. "Shit, Bill, I slept on the plane and I don't need all that much."**

"**Crap. How much underweight are you?"**

"**I'm not. I'm the exact right weight for my height and body type."**

"**You know that's a load as much as I do. You think about what that boy will do if you drop dead from a heart attack when you're thirty-five. He's already pretty much lost his father and I'm not going to be here forever. You're the rock he leans on. Make sure you're around for what he really needs you for."**

"**You're being a drama queen, Bill."**

**He smiled, stood up. He was about done talking. "First time anyone ever called me that." He paused as he walked to the door. "You think about it—you slow down. I don't want to have to watch him bury you and that's where you're headed the way you're going. I like you Brian, and I respect you, but I've seen too many smart guys like you who seem to think they're invincible. You're not."**

"**Bill..."**

"**You listen to me, son. I'm right."**

**After he left, Brian sat in the study for a while, thinking. An hour or so later Justin came looking for him, he hadn't moved since the talk a while ago.**

"**Bri? You OK?"**

"**Yeah, just a little tired."**

**Justin leaned over, kissed him. "Go on up, take a nap. The others won't be here for a couple of hours."**

"**Yeah, I think I might. I've been thinking—it's our anniversary in a few days. Want to go somewhere warm and sit on a beach with me and not do anything for a couple of weeks?"**

**Justin's face lit up with that smile. "Yeah, I would." He looked closely at his husband. "Are you sure? You'd take time off? Vance will freak."**

"**Fuck 'em."**

"...**What did my grandfather say to you?"**

"**Nothing I didn't know."**

_**The End **_


End file.
